The War Was in Color
by ScottFox
Summary: Taking place in the immediate aftermath of the conclusion of Broken Steel, the Lone Wanderer begins his quest to pacify the Capital Wasteland.
1. Where to begin?

July 1, 2278

The Lone Wanderer was drawn from his conversation with his two companions by the approach of Harden Simms. The young boy looked nervous, a combination of the awe in which he held the Wanderer and nervousness in the face of his companions.

"Mr. John, my dad says he has a message for you," the boy said, drawing a smile from the Wanderer. The boy's father, Lucas, was the town sheriff and mayor, in addition to being the Wanderer's friend and ally. He was raising Harden alone, and was determined that his son would be respectful and well-mannered; leading to him referring to every adult as Mr. or Ms. Personally, the Wanderer didn't mind. He found being called by his birth name preferable to being called any of the titles that had been affixed to him over the 11 months that he had been out of the Vault. Paragon, the Last, Best Hope, the Urban Legend, the Messiah…all were embarrassing to him, and the last offended him on a visceral level; though he knew it was not meant as an insult. The Wanderer had met no one else outside of the Vault that could be called a Christian; being called Messiah when he knew he was an ordinary man of flesh and blood struck him as wrong on a personal level.

"Thank you, Harden," he replied, before turning to his companions. "Guess we better see what's up," he said, moving to leave their seats at the Brass Lantern and walk to Sheriff Simms's house. Lucy West, working behind the counter, bid them farewell, eyes lingering on the Wanderer as he left. He knew that she was interested in him; he suspected she had been since he resolved a messy situation with her brother. And he couldn't deny that, as far as the Wasteland went, Lucy was stunning. She couldn't hold a candle to Amata, but…_stop that. Stop thinking of her, _he told himself. He still felt the crushing sadness at the loss of his first love, eight months before, in the aftermath of his father's death. The dual blows had left him in a disconnected, numb state. It was around that time that Jericho, seeing the young man's distress, introduced him to the numbing power of alcohol. He had cut back on his drinking while he was consumed with fighting the Enclave; and over the course of the campaign Sarah Lyons had begun to fill the hole Amata had left when she ejected him from the Vault. It was a huge hole to fill, though. He had last seen her two weeks prior, after destroying the Enclave's land crawler and dealing what he hoped was a mortal blow to them. He had been surprised to find in the aftermath that achieving his ultimate vengeance had done nothing to ease the ache his father's death had left in his heart. Dad was still dead, the Capital Wasteland was still beset by raiders and super-mutants, life continued the same as it always had. As he and his companions came to the top of the hill, he saw Lucas Simms waiting. The big man spotted them, nodding in greeting as he extended his hand.

"John, thanks for coming. Fawkes, Charon, good to see you two," he said, acknowledging the Wanderer's companions. Most people were too intimidated by the super-mutant and the imposing ghoul to say anything. Lucas had come to trust the young man, though, and by extension his companions. _If even half of what Three-Dog says on the radio is true, the kid is almost perfect, _Lucas thought.

"Harden said you have a message, Sheriff?" the Wanderer replied, releasing his grip on Lucas' hand. He was clad in the same style of duster as Lucas, the kind worn by all Regulators. Beneath it was reinforced leather armor, the best mix of comfort and protection he had when he didn't plan to leave Megaton. If the Wanderer had learned one thing in his travels, it was the value of always being prepared for a fight.

"Yeah. Got a call across the radio today from the Brotherhood. They're requesting you report in at the Citadel immediately," he replied. The Wanderer raised his eyebrows at that.

"Oh?" he asked, drawing a knowing smile from Lucas. The rumors had swept the Wasteland like wildfire in the two weeks since the Wanderer had infiltrated Adams AFB and destroyed the land-crawler; spread by water merchants and couriers. They said the kid and the Brotherhood's Sentinel were keen on each other. No one seemed to know where the story had originated, but everyone who told it swore they had heard from someone who knew first hand. Lucas knew the kid, though; he had known him ever since he first escaped the Vault, a scared young man. Ever since he had gone back down into that Vault, last December, he had seemed like a man with nothing to lose, throwing himself into situations that were beyond dangerous, as if he was looking for a way out. The fact that he had survived it all had only added to the legend that Three-Dog, the Capital Wasteland's resident DJ, had promoted about the kid. Now, though…now Lucas saw something else in the kid. Like he had something to live for again.

"Sure enough," the Sheriff replied. "They didn't say what it was about, but it sounded urgent," he continued. The Wanderer nodded in acknowledgement.

"Sounds good. Guess I'll be heading to the Citadel to see what's up. Thanks, Sheriff," he said, before turning back toward the stairs that led to his house, companions in tow. He turned over what Lucas had relayed in his head as they made the short walk, coming to the only conclusion he could think of. It the message wasn't from Sarah, then it had to be about the next step for the Wasteland. He had been contemplating the problem in his head during the two weeks that had elapsed, a reprieve following ten months of near constant fighting. Even though the Enclave was gone, the super-mutants and raiders still menaced the Wasteland. And the conclusion the Wanderer had come to was that they had to be destroyed. The super-mutants would never stop, never be convinced to lay down their arms; they would threaten the Wasteland until they ceased to exist as a cohesive group. The raiders and slavers, on the other hand, he hoped could be cowed into some sort of ceasefire. The super-mutants were the more pressing problem, but also one that he thought could be resolved more easily. They had to be taking their captives somewhere to turn them, and he suspected it was Vault 87. It wouldn't be enough to simply go through and kill all the mutants in the Vault, though. If the Vault was left intact, and with its store of FEV still in place, they'd simply repopulate it. To destroy them, the Wanderer had realized, he'd have to destroy the Vault or take control of the FED; with both being the ideal scenario. Operating alone, with only Fawkes and Charon to aid him, he had figured that fully pacifying the Wasteland could take years. To get the job done in a timely manner would require Brotherhood help. Not to fight with him-most Brotherhood knights would just get in the way-but for transport and supplied. The Brotherhood's squadron of captured Vertibirds would be invaluable to move quickly across the Wasteland, to strike hard and relentlessly, before the enemy knew they were coming. For that reason the Wanderer hoped that Elder Lyons and Scribe Rothchild had come to the same conclusion as him.

The Wanderer's entry into his house woke his sleeping dog, who padded over to greet him as Charon and Fawkes ducked through the doorway. He crouched down, scratching the former junkyard dog behind the ears as his companions took seats at the table. Between the three travelers, the dog, and the Wanderer's robotic butler, the room had become crowded. It was rare that the Wanderer found himself outsized; but both Fawkes and Charon had quite a few inches and pounds on him. Fawkes was far and away the strongest, his enhanced musculature bulging with power. Charon was leaner, but closer to 7' than to the Wanderer's own 6'1. He made his way across to his storage room as the ghoul called after him.

"Will you want us to wait here?" he rasped out, as the Wanderer began to strip off his leather armor. For leaving town, and especially for the trek to the Citadel, he never wore less than combat armor.

"Why would I want that?" he replied as he pulled on the armored black pants. They had been salvaged off a Talon Company hit-team that had come after him, following his disarming of the atomic bomb in the middle of town.

"The Brotherhood doesn't really seem to like us," Charon replied, Fawkes nodding his agreement. The Wanderer turned to face them, pulling a black t-shirt on as he did, before beginning to affix the armor over his torso. He spoke as he fitted the armor to his frame.

"That's their problem. You're my friends, and if they want my help, they'll accept your presence. I didn't see any of them taking out the Enclave. And maybe they'll learn something about tolerance," he replied, before grabbing his duster from where he'd shed it and putting it back on. "Now let's get out of here. There's someone I want to see," he went on, grabbing an old Chinese assault rifle out of a locker as he made his way to the door.

"That someone have blonde hair and wear power armor?" Charon asked sarcastically, as they exited the house and made their way toward the town's entrance.

"She does," the Wanderer replied, laughing. "And no offense, Charon, but she's a prettier sight than you." The ghoul snickered in response.

"Can't argue that," he replied, as they stepped out of the gate, exposed fully to the merciless sun. Charon pulled back the bolt on his shotgun, seating a shell as the Wanderer racked his own weapon, prepared to face whatever the Wasteland could throw at them. Secretly, he hoped there would be a fight somewhere along the way. The past two weeks had made him restless; an adrenaline rush would be a welcome change of pace.

* * *

The trip to the Citadel was disappointingly quiet. No raiders, no super-mutants; not even a Radscorpion to shoot at. In the distance the Wanderer could see Paladin Bael standing post at the entrance, his minigun carried against his side. The man shifted slightly at the sight of Fawkes and Charon, obviously uncomfortable at their presence. In some ways the Wanderer understood it-Bael had spent most of his adult life fighting the super-mutants; the idea of a friendly one was obviously causing some cognitive dissonance. On the other hand, even after years of fighting, the Wanderer saw no reason for intolerance. He had met two intelligent super-mutants on his travels; if he had shot first, as the Brotherhood did, he'd be out two friends. Bael spoke first as the trio approached.

"Greetings, Wanderer. Are you here in response to the Elder's summons?"

"I am," the Wanderer replied, stopping in front of the Paladin. "Want to open the gate?"

"I had not been told your…companions would be with you," Bael replied, his distaste obvious. The Wanderer felt annoyance at his tone. He really wanted to get inside and see Sarah, not play 20 questions with Bael.

"Well, they are with me. And I've been summoned. So are you going to keep jerking me around, or are you going to let me in?" he replied, somewhat harshly. The anger in Bael's eyes was obvious.

"Of course, brother," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as the gate slid open. The Wanderer walked through without so much as a backward glance, the eyes of the initiates locked on him as the group crossed the courtyard to Paladin Gunny, voicing his displeasure at a group of initiates on the firing line. The trio's approach drew his attention, the Wanderer addressing him as they closed the distance.

"The Elder called for me. Do you know where I can find him?"

"The Great Hall. Simms radioed ahead when you left Megaton, they've been expecting you," Gunny replied.

"Excellent," the Wanderer said, glancing quickly at the initiates, all of whom had stopped shooting to stare at the three outsiders. "Don't go too hard on the kids," he continued as he turned to make his way to the Hall.

"Right. Damn initiates…" Gunny trailed off as he turned back to his charges. His voice berating them followed the Wanderer inside the Citadel.

* * *

A knock on Sarah's door drew her attention from the book she was reading. She looked up to see Colvin poking his head through the door, awaiting her acknowledgement.

"What's up, Colvin?" she asked, setting her book down.

"The Lone Wanderer just arrived, Sentinel. The briefing is going to start in five minutes," he replied.

"He's here?" she asked, her tone rising slightly too far. Colvin suppressed a smile at her reaction. He had heard from Kodiak that something had happened between her and the Wanderer in the control room of Project Purity. At this point, everyone in the Brotherhood had heard that rumor. Her reaction to what he said, though, was enough to confirm it for Colvin.

"Yeah. He and two of his crew. You better get to the Great Hall, you're going to be late," he said, smiling as she grabbed something from her desk and strode to the door. Sarah made her way to the Great Hall alone, memories of those last moments in Project Purity going through her mind. The kiss, watching him enter the radiation filled chamber, the dreams she had while she was unconscious. She hadn't let herself contemplate what came next over the two weeks she had been back awake, throwing herself into her work to distract her from her feelings. The nervous anticipation she felt whenever she had been around the Wanderer in recent months had returned to her stomach as she entered the Great Hall to find people quietly talking, the Wanderer standing across the room in a set of black combat armor, flanked by two of his companions. Her heart jumped slightly at the sight of Fawkes, the super-mutant in their midst giving her a momentary shock. She looked to the Wanderer, whose bright green eyes had turned to her when she entered. Sarah felt her cheeks begin to burn slightly as she smiled at him, brushing her hair back over her ear as she took a seat. With her arrival, the most senior Brotherhood leadership was assembled; and Elder Lyons rose to address the assembly, his blue robes flowing as he made his way across the room.

"Brothers. Now that we are all assembled, I call this council to order," he began, arms spread in greeting. Sarah noticed that the Wanderer had opted not to sit, standing against a wall along the side of the room, arms crossed as he dispassionately observed the proceedings. "With the Enclave defeated, we turn our attention to the remaining challenges facing the Wasteland. Scribe Rothchild and I have spoken with our friend," he continued, gesturing at the Wanderer, "and we are of one mind. The super-mutants and raiders must be confronted and defeated. We gather today to discuss the strategy for this campaign. To begin, I will recognize our young friend, who can provide intelligence and insight into both these threats." The Elder nodded at the Wanderer in recognition, before taking his seat. All eyes focused on the Wanderer as he strode to the head of the semi-circular table.

"In my travels I have discovered several locations I believe are vital to our enemies. Vault 87, Evergreen Mills, and Paradise Falls. Vault 87 is the base of operations for the super-mutants in the area. I suspect it is where captives are taken to be exposed to the FEV and converted. It is also extremely difficult to access, and the internal layout is confused and does not favor the movement of a large group assaulting. Paradise Falls is the most accessible; but also poses a risk of civilian casualties, should we assault in force. I believe that, with the assistance of my friends," he said, gesturing to Fawkes and Charon," we can destroy these threats. I request the use of the Vertibirds captured from the Enclave to transport my team. While the Brotherhood holds the line in the Wasteland, we can infiltrate and destroy the enemy where they live." There was a moment of silence after the Wanderer finished speaking. Scribe Rothchild voiced his thoughts first.

"You say we're to hold the line while you go off on these missions. I'm afraid I must object to this. To use our equipment and then act like our knights are not good enough, to have them sit by and do nothing…it's not a good long term strategy. We want to win the support of the locals so we can establish some semblance of the rule of law here. Your way seems apt to simply create an even greater cult of personality around yourself," the Scribe replied. The Wanderer was visible offended, speaking before the Elder could move to calm them.

"Do you think I like the legend Three-Dog created? That I like being the person everyone looks to? I don't. I do it because I can. The reason I said nothing about Brotherhood support on the ground is because I'm better suited for operations like this. I can move quieter, I have advantages most knights don't. Your men would be best used in populated areas, where they can interact with locals and be seen protecting them. They can fight better in open terrain where they can maneuver, as well; not the tunnels of a Vault," he explained, calming as he did. The Elder inserted himself before the argument could go further.

"You both present valid points. But Reginald is right-there must be some sort of Brotherhood presence. After years of war, my men will want to finish this. You have your pick of my chapter, young man. Which of my knights could work best with you?" The Wanderer pondered for a second, biting his lip as he did. Sarah watched him, secretly hoping he'd say her.

"For what I have in mind? Colvin or Gallows," he replied to the Elder, Sarah's heart dropping slightly.

"And what do you have in mind?" Rothchild asked.

"Evergreen Mills. I stumbled on it when I was searching for my father, got shot in the process. I never properly reconnoitered the place, which is what I intend to do first. It's in a canyon, I know that much. Colvin and Gallows could set up on the high ground and pick off anyone that tries to escape when we go in."

"And how do you plan to recon it?" Sarah asked, finally speaking up. The Wanderer looked surprised, glancing down before speaking.

"Carefully," he replied, smiling that boyish smile he had that Sarah found irresistible. She laughed slightly, drawing a curious glance from Rothchild. He shook his head, as if trying to clear a thought, before turning back to the Wanderer.

"Do you have a real plan?" he asked, sounding vaguely annoyed. The Wanderer sighed.

"Yes, Scribe. You don't survive what I have without one. Tonight I'll insert via Vertibird, overwatch the facility and get a lay of the land. Exfil before first light, report back in, and go in with force tomorrow night. Destroy the place, make an example of it. Hopefully enough to give other raiders pause, give us some breathing room to go after the mutants." There was silence as he finished speaking.

"Do you require any equipment from us?" the Elder finally asked. The Wanderer shook his head.

"No. I left a trunk of supplies in the armory. I just need access to that." The Elder nodded at him.

"Very well. We'll call for a Vertibird, have it arrive at dusk. It will touchdown in the courtyard. By all means, help yourself to food from the mess hall if you wish." The Wanderer nodded back at the Elder.

"And my friends?" he asked.

"They are welcome to remain here, if they so desire," the Elder responded, receiving a smile in return.

"Much appreciated, Elder. If there's nothing else, I should prepare myself," he replied. The Elder looked around, and seeing no hands, spoke.

"So be it. This meeting is concluded. Steel be with you all."

"And with you," the council intoned as one. People began to file past where Sarah sat as she waited, trying to get the Wanderer's attention. There was a pat on her shoulder and, glancing back, saw Rothchild, the shadow of a smile on his face. She blushed slightly, wondering if she was that obvious. Fawkes and Charon finally turned from the Wanderer and left, leaving them alone.

"Mind if I walk with you to the armory?" she asked, rising from her seat as he approached.

"Not at all," he replied as she fell in beside him in the hallway. "How are you feeling?" he asked as they began walking toward the armory.

"Better. Been a little disorienting catching up with everything that happened while I was out. All this new tech from Adams and everything…" she trailed off, getting a grunt in reply. Sarah glanced over, taking in the man's features. His hair was certainly longer, and he looked like he hadn't shaved in the past two weeks, but the most shocking feature was his eyes. Bright green, greener than anything she'd seen. Like the green they said forests were, before the war.

"I don't suppose now is…" she began.

"No," he interjected, cutting her off. "Let me finish this mission, and then we can talk," he finished.

"Well, I have something for you," she continued as they reached the armory. He stopped, turning to her and raising his eyebrows curiously. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a breakable chain with two metal tags attached to it.

"What is it?" he asked, taking them from her.

"Holotags. I used the information you gave us after Project Purity. I figured since you're one of us now, you should have them," she replied, nodding down, as if encouraging him to read them. He looked down at his palm, where the tags lay. Sarah knew exactly what they said, she had looked at them enough since they'd been made.

_Thompson_

_ John_

_ 02867431_

_ O NEG_

_ Christian_

He smiled as he looked at them, before putting the tags around his neck and tucking them under his shirt.

"Thank you," he said earnestly, smiling at her.

"Don't mention it. Yours are only the second pair in the chapter I've seen that say Christian," she replied.

"Who's the other?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Colvin," she said, before looking at the door to the armory. "You better go get ready. I'll see you outside," she continued, before heading off toward the Den, leaving him to prepare alone.

* * *

The Wanderer looked at his kit, laid out on the bed in the private quarters the Elder had spared for him. It occurred to him, looking at his gear, that none of it was provided by the Brotherhood. On the contrary, it had all come from the Outcasts, gifts after he helped them breach the VSS bunker and then saved McGraw's life. The Chinese-made stealth suit, one of the pinnacles of pre-war technology, was spread out; a Gauss rifle and the shocksword of the late General Jingwei, PLA, neatly laid next to it. The Wanderer shed his combat armor and began to slide into the extremely tight stealth suit; as far as he had been able to tell, it was a one size fits all design. The polymers it was composed of seemed to expand or contract to fit the user. Over his vital organs, hardened ceramic had been woven into the suit, offering protection from smaller caliber small-arms fire and shrapnel. The jet-black suit, combined with his densely muscled frame, presented an imposing sight. Leaving the hood draped over the back of his neck, he sheathed the sword across his back and slung the Gauss rifle, before making his way out of the room and toward the courtyard. He had timed his exit with dinner, and the halls were mostly empty; but the stares he received confirmed that no one in the Citadel had seen anything like what he was wearing.

The evening air was still smolderingly hot as he stepped into the courtyard, heat radiating from the concrete. Sitting on a bench, near the landing pad, was Sarah. She glanced over, not recognizing him at first, before doing a double take, eyes widening as he approached.

"What is that? Where'd you get it?" she asked as he took a seat next to her, wiping sweat from his brow. The suit had a built in liquid cooling system, but to activate it, his hood had to be on and the onboard CPU running.

"It's a stealth suit. And you probably wouldn't believe where I got it," he replied.

"Don't do that," Sarah said, a touch sharply. Confusion crossed his face.

"Do what?"

"Shut me out like that. I'm as confused as you about what's going on with us, John, but I want us to at least be friends. We've been through too much to not be," she replied.

"You sure you want to know?" he asked, looking into her crystal-blue eyes.

"Yes," she said, intensely meeting his stare.

"I got it from the Outcasts," he answered, waiting for the disapproval to hit.

"What? Who?!" she demanded, looking at him in disbelief.

"McGraw. I helped him and his men out of a running firefight with some mutants, and got this in return," he explained, opting to not attempt to explain the Anchorage simulation.

"They took help from an outsider? Oh, that's rich," she said, bursting into laughter. He smiled at her laughter, relieved that she didn't become as angry as he feared. Her temper seemed…fiery. Their fun was interrupted by the distinct thump of Vertibird rotors approaching as the last traces of blue disappeared from the sky. The bird appeared over the walls of the Citadel, rotors tilting up as it came to land. The wash from the rotors blasted down on them, blowing Sarah's hair wild as it landed. The wash died as the rotors began idling, the ramp at the back lowering as the crew chief came out to inspect the aircraft. The Wanderer turned to Sarah and spoke.

"My ride's here," he said, pulling the hood up and the golden faceplate into position. A Heads Up Display appeared on the inside, the writing all in Chinese and incomprehensible to him. The only things that made sense were a display of his heart rate and what appeared to be his blood pressure. Nodding at her, he walked toward the Vertibird, before being stopped by Sarah's voice.

"Hey," she called out over the sound of the rotors. He turned to face her. "Be careful out there." Muffled by the suit came the sound of laughter.

"Where's the fun in that?" he replied, before striding toward the Vertibird and disappearing into the cargo hold. The crew chief clambered on after him, and in what seemed like a second the ramp closed and the aircraft took off, Sarah watching until it disappeared into the night sky.

* * *

The Wanderer sat in silence in the hold of the Vertibird, the dim red light of the night-lights casting an otherworldly glow over everything. Against the bulkhead separating the hold from the cockpit the crew chief silently sat. The Wanderer had not spoken to whoever the person was for the duration of the flight. The crew chief broke the silence first, his voice ringing through the hold.

"Five minutes," he said, holding up his hand to signal five. The Wanderer nodded and gave him a thumbs up in acknowledgement; before unslinging his Gauss rifle and performing one last check. He had brought the weapon primarily for its scope, which had the ability to switch into the infrared spectrum; if all went according to plan he wouldn't need to fire it. In what seemed like too soon, the crew chief spoke again.

"One minute!" he said. The Wanderer lowered his head and began to recite Psalm 144 to himself, a tradition he had developed before going into a dangerous situation. Feeling the forward motion of the aircraft slowing he stood up, the ramp lowering as he did. The crew chief had rose from his seat and was standing next to him, waiting to give the command to go.

"We're coming in to hover five feet off the deck. You're good to go," he said to the Wanderer, who nodded in response. He walked forward, onto the lowered ramp, before turning back to the crew chief.

"Don't forget breakfast," he said, before jumping off the ramp and to the ground. He felt the rotor wash as the Vertibird gained altitude, before converting to standard flight and heading back to the Citadel. Alone now, the Wanderer activated the stealth field on his suit and let the night envelope him; before setting off at a jog towards Evergreen Mills, half a mile distant.

* * *

He reached Evergreen mills in just over three minutes; the HUD on his suit telling him that his heart rate hadn't even broken 100bpm. He was at the height of his powers; supremely conditioned and extremely strong, fast and agile in equal measure. His life outside the Vault had required him to either adapt or die; and he had grown up playing sports in the Vault, the athleticism serving him well on the outside. He remembered his father explaining to him, when he was a teenager, that he wouldn't actually reach his physical peak until his mid-20s; with his 21st birthday two weeks away, he was eagerly anticipating what other changes would occur over the next several years. The canyon that the Evergreen Mills facility was in lay several yards in front of him, and he ducked into a crouch as he approached, inching his way towards the edge. Reaching it, he raised the Gauss rifle and scanned the facility below him. It was silent, and he spotted only one raider, pacing the roof of a large building. The Wanderer laid flat on his stomach, watching the facility from this position, committing it to memory. It had a view of several small building and the large foundry that was the central point of the entire facility; if either Colvin or Gallows set up here they would be able to cover his team once they entered the foundry, making sure no raiders from elsewhere got in behind them. Once he felt confident that he knew the lay of the land surrounding Evergreen Mills, he stood again, moving to a new position to view the rear area of the canyon. He moved silently, dropping to a crouch again as he approached his chosen overwatch position. What he saw as he looked over the edge made his heart skip a beat. Below were two pens. One was a series of cages; inside of which were several Wastelanders. _Slave pens. _In all likelihood these people would be sold to Paradise Falls. The other pen was much larger and electrified, and inside stood the sight that had made the Wanderer's heart skip a beat. It was a super-mutant Behemoth, an absolutely massive creature. The Wanderer raised the scope to his faceplate to get a better view, taking in the full size of the creature. He scanned the area methodically, looking for some sort of control mechanism that would cut power to the fence. He assumed it was electrified; as the Behemoth was more than large enough to simply smash his way out of the chain link enclosure. This changed things. Raiders were simple enough to kill; but a Behemoth…he remembered his first encounter with one, outside the GNR Building, just moments after he had met Sarah for the first time. It had taken a direct hit from a Fat Man to drop the thing, and even then it had been a closely run affair. The Wanderer scanned the area below him, seeing no Raiders to speak of. Ideally they would be asleep or in an alcohol or chem induced stupor by nightfall, making his job the next night much easier. It may not be particularly fair; but he had no interest in giving his enemies a chance to oppose him. He had learned in his travels that while an honorable confrontation might be a noble idea; it was also a fast way to get killed. He stood from his position, moving in a crouch back toward the foundry. The place had remained silent; and he observed a rail line leading into the area, from the mouth of the canyon. Moving at a deliberate pace, he made his way toward the entrance of the canyon. It was something of a bottleneck, with the walls of the canyon encroaching on the rails that seemed to be the only path in. Below, on the foundry side of the bottleneck, he noticed a wagon with a painted sign on it. _Free Water, _it read. The Wanderer found something…off about it. Something wasn't right. Looking for a way down to examine more closely, he was met by the sight of a fairly sheer drop of at least 20 feet. Preferring to not spend the rest of the night with a broken leg, he opted to make his way further back, until he could leap down from a safe distance. As he moved away from Evergreen Mills proper, a sound reached him from below; voices moving along the railroad tracks. He dropped into a crouch again and looked over the edge, seeing a trio of raiders moving nonchalantly towards Evergreen Mills. The Wanderer ran through his options in his mind. This was supposed to be a recon mission, and he had hoped to avoid any sort of contact at all; especially if killing these three would put the raiders in Evergreen Mills on alert the next night once they failed to show up. On the other hand, killing them now meant less to fight tomorrow; and it had been two weeks since he'd been in a good fight. In the end, his desire to mix it up won out. He waited for the raiders to pass under his position, before dropping the 8 feet to the ground silently, landing behind them. They were too caught up in their conversation about a whore in Paradise Falls, someone named Clover, to hear anything else. He silently unsheathed the shocksword from his back, stalking closer to his prey. They were in a single file line, talking back and forth. The Wanderer raised the sword, swinging it in a downward motion, lopping the raiders head off and spraying blood from the stump that once supported his head. The raider's body crumpled to the ground, a pool of crimson forming where it fell as the other raiders turned around in shock; the noise and the feel of blood on their backs enough to distract from their conversation. The Wanderer grabbed the rifle of the next one by the barrel and jerked it aside, thrusting in with his sword as he did and impaling the raider, a girl with pigtails. Before she could fall he was spinning away, a dervish of motion that blended with the darkness. Before the remaining raider could fire his weapon, the Wanderer's shocksword cleaved through his neck; passing through so smoothly that the Wanderer at first feared he had missed his mark. That fear was assuaged as blood from the raider's carotid artery sprayed across the front of his stealth suit, a diagonal line of it tracking across his faceplate. The Wanderer paused for a moment to survey the carnage. The entire encounter had probably lasted less than five seconds; each strike of his sword proving to be a death blow to his foes. It occurred to him that he would be best served to hide the bodies; and seeing the dead female seemed to have the least amount of blood pouring from her, opted to start there. He threw her over his shoulder, moving back down the rail line and away from Evergreen Mills, until the ground leveled out. Doubling back on his tracks, he walked along the rim of the canyon, finding an outcropping of rocks to hide her body in, slightly further down the rim from where the Wanderer had descended upon her. He repeated the process with the next two raiders, most of the blood having spilled from their bodies by the time he reached them. Moving the bodies consumed him for the next half hour, and it was well past midnight by the time he finished the task. Returning to his position overwatching the slave pens and Behemoth, he settled onto his stomach and got comfortable, prepared to spend the next hours committing the area to memory. Through careful observation he finally spotted what appeared to be a switch, controlling the flow of electricity to the Behemoth cage. The hours dragged by, the Wanderer keeping himself awake by rotating between overwatch positions; doing as much as he could to commit the place to his memory. It was in the last hour of his reconnaissance that he spotted a raider, exiting the foundry and making his way to the slave pens. The Wanderer watched through his scope as the man fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the pen, making his way to where one of the slaves slept on the floor. He grabbed the slave, a woman, and kicked her awake, before dragging her away from her bed and the other slaves and throwing her on the ground. The Wanderer realized immediately where this was going as the woman desperately struggled to fend him off. _Shit. Shit! You have to do something! _He screamed at himself. Simultaneously, another voice began speaking. _Do nothing. Going in there now could blow our entire mission tomorrow night. If they find any of the slaves missing or the asshole dead, they'll know someone was here. _His internal fight ended quickly as he watched the struggle. Mission or not, he couldn't sit by and watch an innocent person be raped while he had the means to do something about it. The Wanderer looked left, seeing a building no more than 10 feet beneath the edge of the rim. He ran over and leapt onto the roof, rolling forward to lessen the impact of his landing, before jumping the next 10 feet to the ground of Evergreen Mills. He immediately felt like a fish in a barrel, surrounded on all sides by buildings and high ground. Every instinct in him screamed at his willingly ceding the high ground. Spotting the slave pens, he began running over, stealth field activated; drawing his sword as he ran. The woman received a vicious backhand slap from the raider as the Wanderer approached, knocking her back, dazed, onto the ground. Receiving no more resistance from the woman, the raider began unbuttoning his pants. It was the last thing he ever did; the Wanderer's sword severing his spine and punching through his heart, his free hand wrapping around the raider's mouth to prevent any noises from escaping. The man died quickly, and the Wanderer let the body drop as the woman sat, frantically searching for her savior. He shook the blood off his sword before sheathing it and deactivating his stealth field, making the woman jump back. The Wanderer brought a finger up to his face, the universal sign to be quiet, before crouching down and approaching her.

"Are you alright?" he asked. _Stupid question. She's been captured by raiders and nearly raped. Of course she's not alright. _

"No," she choked out, sitting upright. "We got taken today, they brought us back here. They said they were going to sell us to Paradise Falls. Please, help us," she pleaded.

"I will. But I can't tonight. I promise, I'll be returning with some friends tomorrow night and we'll free you all. But if I get you out now, they'll know we're coming," he explained.

"Please, please, don't leave me here," she said, more frantically. He held his finger up in an attempt to shush her as her voice continued to rise.

"I told you, I can't. Trust me," he said, helping the woman to her feet. She looked down in disgust at the dead raider before looking back at him.

"Are you…are you him? The Lone Wanderer?" Behind his faceplate, a smile crossed the Wanderer's face.

"Yeah. Last time I checked, at least," he replied. For the first time, something like hope appeared in the woman's eyes.

"I had begun to think you'd never come. Please, just don't leave us here. Please come back for us," she continued, as he led her back into the pen. He felt sick to his stomach leaving the slaves in this position; but he knew there was no other option. He still had to hide the dead raider, and it was coming dangerously close to his extraction time.

"I will come back for all of you. Tomorrow night, be sure to just stay on the ground when we come in. Do as much as you can to lay low tomorrow. If you don't draw attention the raiders will leave you alone. They can't kill or severely injure you if they want to sell you to Paradise Falls," he said. She nodded, before throwing herself against him and wrapping her arms around his chest. He was taken aback momentarily, before lightly embracing the woman. When the hug lasted too long for comfort, he gently pried her away, holding her by the shoulders. She looked into his faceplate, as if looking for his eyes.

"We all hoped you would come. But as the day went on, we began to wonder why you would let this place exist, if you were everything that Three-Dog says," she said.

"It won't exist, after tomorrow night," he replied. A smile crossed her face.

"Good. When you come back, I want to watch this place burn." He nodded at her, admiring her spirit, before shutting the pen. Using a key off the dead raider's body, he relocked it, before tucking the key away in his suit for future use. Reactivating his stealth field, the Wanderer threw the raider into a fireman's carry; quietly relieved that he had been a smallish man. He walked as quickly as he could back toward the canyon entrance, desperately hoping that no raider would look outside to see a floating body moving towards the exit. His hope was rewarded as he made it out of the canyon and, with little ceremony, deposited the body with the other dead raiders. He shuddered to think what sort of stench there would be by the next night, after the bodies had a day to rot in the sun. The Wanderer looked at his Pip-Boy, seeing that the time was 0420. Satisfied that he had obtained all the intelligence he could, he began to make his way to the extraction site; the same place that he had inserted. Even walking at a leisurely pace, he had time to sit and think while waiting for the Vertibird. Evergreen Mills was a huge facility; containing any number of raiders inside the buildings. He began turning over the options for destroying the place in his mind. The first one that came to mind was sneaking in, freeing the slaves, and then deactivating the flow of electricity to the Behemoth's pen; allowing it to run roughshod over the entire area before bringing it down with Fat Men from the high ground. Even that was no guarantee, though. Raiders could simply wait inside the buildings, riding out the Behemoth's rampage until it was either dead or disappeared into the Wastes. And if they had added on to the buildings; perhaps building a tunnel network beneath them all, the situation would be more complicated still. The only conclusion the Wanderer had was that he and his team; Fawkes and Charon, would have to actively storm the facility and clear it, room by room if necessary. The distant sound of Vertibird rotors drew him from his planning, scanning the sky to spot the bird. He finally picked it out in the faint grey light of early morning, approaching from the East. Standing up, he deactivated his Stealth field and waited for the bird to land; which it did upon spotting him. The ramp lowered, the now helmetless crew chief's face showing shock at the Wanderer's appearance. He assumed it was from the amount of blood he was now covered in. He silently took a seat as the bird took off again, heading East and home.

* * *

The first hints of blue were in the sky when they touched down in the Citadel. The first thing the Wanderer saw when the ramp landed was Sarah Lyons, accompanied by several members of the Pride. Her jaw dropped when he stepped into sight.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked, pulling the hood of his suit back and exposing his face to them.

"You said this was supposed to be a recon! What the fuck happened?!" Sarah asked, her voice a mixture of anger and concern.

"Shit happened," he replied sardonically. Paladin Glade snickered at the response, while Sarah's face showed only more outrage.

"You weren't supposed to do any fighting! That's not how a recon works, John!" she yelled.

"But where's the fun in that?" he asked, laughing as he turned away from the Pride and made his way toward the Citadel.

* * *

**So welcome to my new story, those of you reading it. This is basically a tie-in that I'd been considering for a little while; filling in some background and gaps between the end of the main Fallout 3 story and the beginning of my main work right now, An Ember in the Dark (shameless plug). So this first chapter was originally going to be much longer, but then I saw how long this was so far and decided to break it into two parts. Next one should come relatively soon; although I'm going to try and knock out the next chapter for An Ember in the Dark first. Also, for those curious, the title for this story comes from the Carbon Leaf song of the same name. A friend of mine played it for me when I came home and I felt it kind of encapsulated some of my own experiences. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Evergreen Mills

The Wanderer stared at his reflection in the mirror of the men's showers; alone save for the quiet sound of water dripping from the faucet he had just used. The man that stared back at him from the mirror was not one he fully recognized as himself. His beard was thick, far beyond the normal stubble that he wore; and his hair was long and growing wavy. It lay against his head, long enough to fall into his eyes. He realized, not for the first time, that he looked like someone that just didn't give a shit. _Time for a shave. And a haircut. _The only part of himself that he recognized was his body, which caused a surge of vanity as he looked at it. He was in phenomenal condition, and it showed. The thought was quickly suppressed, his religious training as a chaplain screaming to the front of his mind. _Pride goeth before destruction; and an haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18,_ he reminded himself. Turning his attention from his religious musings, he picked up his razor; a straight-edge that his father had once used. He had retrieved it when he had returned to the Vault the previous December, called back by Amata to rescue his home. He had gone in feeling like a white knight; rescuing his own damsel in distress. He had left feeling like he had just been gutted; betrayed by the one person that he had never doubted.

_How could she do that to me? That bitch!_

_Stop that. Stop thinking of her!_

The feeling of warm blood trickling down his cheek drew his attention back to the present. So distracted he had been by his memories of Amata and of his return to Vault 101 that he had dug the blade of the razor into his face much too hard, causing a significant cut along his cheek. Cursing in exasperation, he cupped the lightly irradiated water running from the faucet over the sink and washed the blood away; before setting about shaving, focusing on the steady movements of his blade as a way to forget the heartache he still felt, if nothing else.

It took several minutes, with as thick as his beard had grown, but when he was done his face was once again only covered by light stubble that was close to the skin; the color of the hair fair enough to not be immediately evident. The hair on his head would have to wait, though. He would only have his hair cut by Wadsworth or Butch, and they were in Megaton and Rivet City, respectively. Running a hand through it to brush it away from his eyes, he set about dressing in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of green cargo pants, throwing his towel over his shoulder before leaving the communal showers and quietly winding his way through the halls of the Citadel. Reveille had just sounded and the Brotherhood was stirring to life, Knights and Paladins making their way through the hallways, reporting to their duty stations or, if they had time, to the chow hall. The Wanderer, for his part, only desired several hours of sleep before giving his briefing to the Elder and the others. He had realized, looking at his reflection in the mirror, that he looked exhausted, dark bags lining his eyes. The private quarters that had been set aside for him were relatively close to the Great Hall, and upon entering them he stripped to his underwear and collapsed into bed; falling rapidly into a deep sleep. And once there the Wanderer was reminded why he hated sleeping, his dreams visited by Amata and his father and the face of the first man he had killed, a raider in Springvale. All reminded him of his failures, one as a lover, one as a son, and one as a man of God. All reassured him that nothing good waited for him in his future.

* * *

It was the sense of there being a presence of a room that brought the Wanderer back to consciousness, awakening with a start and a feeling of dread washing over him. The anxiety quickly faded as he realized it was just Fawkes and Charon, sitting in chairs at the opposite end of the room, waiting for him. The Wanderer drew a deep breath as he looked at them, willing his heart rate to calm back down.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Charon rasped out, his shotgun resting in his lap as he idly cleaned it. The Wanderer nodded at him in acknowledgement, collecting his bearings before replying.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Around 11:30. You've actually been asleep for over five hours. Personally, Fawkes and I wanted to let you sleep more, but the Brotherhood is getting pretty impatient on your briefing. Say they need time to plan support if we're going tonight," Charon replied. The Wanderer grunted in derision at that.

"Support? They just need to give us a ride. I didn't ask for anything else," he replied, swinging out of bed to begin getting dressed. Fawkes spoke up as the Wanderer began pulling on his appropriated Talon combat armor.

"Is it wise to disregard the Brotherhood, my friend? They have much to offer in the way of support," he said. The only thing that kept the Wanderer from laughing at that was the high regard and respect he had for Fawkes. The mutant sought out the good in every situation, contemplating things from an angle that the Wanderer often neglected. In this case, though, the Wanderer couldn't disagree more strongly with his friend.

"Had. They had much to offer. And that offer is now lying in a heap of scrap metal being repaired in the basement of this building, Fawkes. No, I think we won't be needing their help. If it was up to me it would just be the three of us going in tonight. The Brotherhood moves too heavy, they're not good at improvising and they don't know how we operate. I'm afraid them being there is going to just slow us down."

"Some of them appear quite competent, John. Gallows especially," Fawkes replied. The Wanderer had to give him that. If he had to choose any Brotherhood member that he believed would be able to keep up with him, it would be Gallows. And he liked and respected Colvin, on a personal level. Other than them, though, he had always felt like an outsider amongst the Brotherhood. Even after they accepted his help and made him an honorary member, they spoke to him like a child; something he deeply resented. His innate pride rebelled fiercely against his religious beliefs and constant reminders to remain humble. He knew that on their best day, there were perhaps only one or two Brotherhood scribes who could match him in intellect; even fewer of the entire chapter could match him in a fight. He knew he was better than them; and it chafed at him to be told by people like Paladin Bael and even, admittedly, the Elder that they were out there daily protecting "people like him". _There are no people like me, only me;_ he thought to himself.

_Stop that. Pride goeth before destruction._

"Gallows is quite competent. Most of the Pride is. But they're the exception, not the rule. Most of them don't have the training or experience to keep up with us, Fawkes." The mutant nodded at his reply. While Fawkes could and would engage in a lively discussion of philosophy and wits, he rarely challenged the Wanderer on matters relating to combat or people; trusting instead in the Wanderer's natural intuition into human nature. The Wanderer finished dressing, Charon speaking as he did.

"If we're done gossiping about our hosts, we should proceed to the Great Hall. They'll be waiting on us," the ghoul said, rising to his full height as he did. The Wanderer nodded at both of them before leaving the room, his companions close behind, and winding his way toward the Hall.

* * *

Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat in the Great Hall, the entirety of the Brotherhood's senior leadership and the Lyons' Pride packed into the room to hear the briefing. Her father had begun to grow impatient as the morning had progressed and the Wanderer had remained shut in his chambers; finally asking his companions, as politely as possible, to wake him. That had been a half-hour previous, and the tension and frustration in the room had grown palpable as the Wanderer failed to materialize. The look in her father's eye was one Sarah recognized. It was one of anger. He felt that the Wanderer was disrespecting him by making him wait; somehow trying to prove that the Brotherhood would wait on him. Sarah knew it was nothing of the sort; she had seen John's face when he stepped off the Vertibird and, shock at his blood spattered armor notwithstanding, she hadn't been able to help noticing how exhausted he had looked. She assumed he had simply gone back to his quarters and collapsed into bed. As if answering her thoughts, the Wanderer entered the Hall, a look of surprise crossing his face as he saw how crowded the room was. Sarah, for her part, was surprised, albeit pleasantly surprised, at his freshly shaven appearance. He must have paid a visit to the showers at some point in the hours since he had returned.

"Ah, I see you have finally decided to join us. We are ready to receive your report," the Elder began, the irritation in his tone obvious. If the Wanderer noticed it, he made no mention of it, simply striding to the head of the room, speaking as he went.

"Forgive me. I decided sleep would be useful in advance of tonight's operation," he said. Sarah knew that response would grate her father's nerves. No Brotherhood member would be allowed to sleep in past reveille simply because they had carried out an operation the night before; and the Elder insisted on maintaining high standards of discipline among his chapter. The Wanderer deciding to sleep in would simply strike him as a lack of discipline and bearing, Sarah knew. Her father was far less forgiving of the young man in front of them than she was; perhaps because he feared, on some level, that this one person would outshine all the work he had spent 20 years doing with his chapter. Her musings were cut short as the Wanderer began his briefing, looking out at the assembled crowd. Sarah thought she could see a look of unease at the amount of people. It was the reverse of the way he was used to operating; never including more than one or two people in his plans was his typical way of doing things.

"Evergreen Mills is heavily guarded. Besides being in a canyon that is difficult to access, there is a super-mutant Behemoth in a pen there; one that appears to be electrified," he began. There was a collective gasp and murmurs of disbelief at his words. The Wanderer plowed ahead, disregarding the noise. "In addition, there are at least four people being held in slave pens there, awaiting transportation to Palisade Falls to be enslaved. The facility itself is as I remembered-several smaller out buildings, and then a large foundry, one that likely houses the raiders. I considered several plans of action, which I now present to you. The first is straightforward: position Colvin and Gallows on the heights around the canyon and equip them with Fat Man launchers as well as rifles. My team and I will go in, retrieve the slaves, and remove them from the facility, before deactivating the flow of electricity to the Behemoth's pen. Once deactivated, we stand back and let it run wild over the area and destroy it for us. Crude, but effective. Not my preferred way to do things. My second plan would see my team raid the facility with Gallows and Colvin providing overwatch from the canyon rim. We'd go building by building, room by room, and kill every raider in that facility that puts up a fight; before extracting with the captives being held there. More complicated, and more risk involved, but ultimately, I feel, more effective. If the raiders have any sort of tunnel network under the facility then they could simply ride out the Behemoth's rampage and come back later." The room was silent for a brief moment before the Elder spoke.

"Yes…about your assault force. Rothchild and I have decided, after discussion, that such a small party is too risky. Therefore, we're attaching the entirety of the Lyons' Pride to you for the assault. Sarah will be in command of them, so you will need to coordinate your actions with hers," the Elder said, an icy tone in his voice. The Wanderer's eyes immediately went wide in outrage.

"Elder, with all due respect, that isn't a good idea. I haven't ever worked with them, I-"

"Then you will, beginning today. I remind you, young man, that you are a knight in this chapter. Sarah is a Sentinel and your superior officer, and I am an Elder. You are bound to follow my orders, as a member of this chapter."

"I didn't ask to be a member of the chapter! You gave me the rank. More people on the ground will just confuse…" the Elder slamming his fist onto the desk shocked everyone in the room, the Wanderer included, as he fell silent.

"Enough!" the Elder exclaimed. "I will hear no more of this argument from you! You will be accompanied by the Lyons' Pride, and you will obey Sentinel Lyons' orders, or I will know the reason why! If you have nothing further to contribute, you are dismissed to prepare for this evening as you see fit," he finished, eyes wide with indignation. The Wanderer met his gaze, his green eyes displaying nothing but anger, his jaw visibly clinching. Curtly, he nodded at the Elder, before storming from the room, his companions in tow. There was silence as the assembly glanced at each other, before the Elder addressed them.

"He is a reckless, undisciplined boy. But he is a member of this chapter, by my commission; and he has shown a remarkable capacity for violence. He will conform to what is expected of members of this chapter; or he and his 'friends' will face Brotherhood justice. That should cure his rebellious streak and remind him of his obligations," the Elder said. There were quiet nods of agreement from around the room, particularly among the senior members. Sarah, for her part, felt nothing but sickness in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was a fight between her father, a man she idolized; and the man she was interested in, one who had become a living legend in the course of 10 months. Quietly, Sarah filed out of the Great Hall with the rest of the assembly, making her way to the Den with the Pride close behind. Her focus turned to planning the operation that night, the anticipation of the coming fight enough to temporarily drive her fears about her father and the Wanderer from her mind.

* * *

The door to the Wanderer's quarters slammed shut as the trio filed in, the Wanderer the last to enter the room. Once in private he dropped his closely guarded face and revealed the true extent of the unadulterated rage he felt at the Elder's words. Charon and Fawkes stood back and silently listened while he raged to them.

"Follow orders! Follow orders! All I ever fucking did was what they told me! 'Oh, Wanderer, go into a Deathclaw nest and get us a Tesla coil!' 'Oh, Wanderer, infiltrate the Enclave's headquarters single-handedly and destroy it for us,'" he ranted, doing an impression of Scribe Rothchild and the Elder, respectively, before continuing. "I tell you what I should have done! I should have done the Wasteland a favor and fucking nuked this place! Who the fuck does he think he is, lecturing me like that? We've done more in the past 10 months than his entire useless organization has done in 20 years!" the rant continued; the façade of a composed warrior dropping and revealing the proud young man of 19 that lay underneath. He drew a deep breath, collecting his thoughts as he calmed himself from his outburst.

"Look, John, if we want their Vertibirds we have to put up with their attitude. So just come up with another plan for tonight. The Elder might be an asshole, but Sarah may listen to you," Charon said, Fawkes silently looking on, observing the interaction. The mutant was no stranger to rage; but to see it in his friend was a new experience to him. _If a man as good as the Wanderer could experience such intense anger, then perhaps the own rage that I feel, that constant simmer in the background of everything I do, is not so abnormal_, Fawkes mused.

"Fine," the Wanderer replied, sounding somewhat like a petulant child. He knew that Charon was right, of course. He just didn't want to admit it quite yet. He hated, absolutely loathed, being treated like he was a child. His dissociation from the rest of humanity over the past months had grown at a rapid pace as he became more convinced that no one would ever understand him or what he was; feeling on some levels that he had transcended the point of being a normal human. He guarded carefully against those feelings, reminding himself of his obligations to the people of the Capital Wasteland and the equality of all in the eyes of God. "I'll talk to Sarah this afternoon about a new plan. Maybe I can convince her to keep the Pride in reserve and secure a Landing Zone for the Vertibird. Then we can just send the captives back to them and they won't be totally defenseless," he said, verbalizing the plan that was forming in his head. "And explosives. We'll need a lot of high explosives and high strength rope or cables for what I have in mind." Fawkes and Charon looked on silently at that before Charon voiced the question they were both thinking.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"An example," the Wanderer replied. "Hopefully one that all the raiders will understand."

The Wanderer managed to steal a few more hours of sleep, Charon and Fawkes silently keeping guard in his room as he slept. It was mid-afternoon when Sarah softly knocked on his door before entering; finding him lying face down on the bed as Charon and Fawkes apprehensively watched her. _They don't trust me,_ she realized.

"I was just seeing if we could talk about tonight's raid," she explained, unable to help the defensive tone that crept into her voice. There was a moment's paused before Charon grudgingly nodded at her.

"Wake him up, then" he rasped out, before turning his attention back to the Pre-War book he held in his hand. Sarah was taken aback by the total disregard which both the ghoul and the super-mutant held her. They almost appeared to be intentionally shunning her. Brushing the thought from her mind, she walked to the bed and rested her hand on the Wanderer's back, before speaking.

"John? John, wake up," she said, shaking his body. The response she received was not what she had expected. The Wanderer practically jumped in bed; flipping over and immediately moving to subdue Sarah, who couldn't help pushing back and falling onto the floor, hands up in a defensive position. The Wanderer looked at her, eyes wild, before calming down.

"Sarah. I'm so sorry. I'm just not used to being woken up like that," he said, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," she shakily replied, rising back to her feet from the floor. "I just wanted to talk to you about tonight and the plan going in."

"Ah. I wanted to do the same," he replied, smiling.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, sitting back down on the foot of his bed.

"Well, I have a couple things. First are supplies. I need access to high explosives and high strength rope or cable," he began, a look of confusion briefly crossing Sarah's face.

"Why those things?"

"The explosives are to destroy the complex, especially if there's a tunnel network we need to collapse. The rope is to bind any prisoners we take," he replied. She nodded in agreement.

"Makes sense. What about the raid itself?"

"We take off before sunset and land outside Megaton. I have supplies I need to retrieve from my house there than I can't get here. After that, we come in and insert Colvin and Gallows on the high ground after night falls, before having the bird set down at the mouth of the canyon that the facility is in. Now…you're not going to like this next part, but hear me out. I want the rest of the Pride to pull security for the bird and for the captives we send out while me and these guys," he said, gesturing towards Fawkes and Charon, "go in and finish the job." Sarah's jaw locked up at that. She didn't like the plan.

"Why are you so determined to not have us come in with you? Do you think you're better than us?" she asked. _I don't think it, I know it;_ he thought to himself.

"Of course not, Sarah. You just haven't seen the layout of the place. It's crowded; it'd be way too easy for confusion to break out and us to accidentally open up on each other if we split into groups. Let's just face it; your guys don't exactly hesitate to shoot at super-mutants."

"So you're saying my people won't know to not shoot a friendly?" she demanded.

"No, I'm saying that years of killing super-mutants will have led to them naturally shooting at super-mutants without a second thought. And if one of your men were to shoot Fawkes, I would kill them," he said plainly. That admission, what felt like a borderline threat, took Sarah violently aback. He had just plainly stated he would kill a Brotherhood Knight or Paladin for accidentally shooting his friend; a member of a race that was trying to exterminate humanity in the Capital Wasteland. Sarah sighed in response to what he said.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. But we need to coordinate better and maybe do some training together if we're going to be going in as a team in the future," she replied.

"Sarah, I know it's hard to believe because you've been taught entirely in squad tactics and teamwork; but I truly do work better alone. I took down the Enclave alone, I can handle some chem'd out raiders," he replied, smiling at her as he did. She rolled her eyes, frustrated by his cockiness, before conceding the point.

"If you say so. Just don't go getting your ass shot off tonight, Wanderer. We have some unfinished business to discuss. The bird that took you in last night is still out in the Courtyard. I'm gonna go put the pilots on standby, so be ready to leave in half an hour," she said, before rising and making her way out of the room. Silence pervaded the room before Fawkes spoke up.

"What equipment is needed in Megaton, John?"

"My power armor and plasma rifle are both there," the Wanderer replied.

"You couldn't get power armor from the Brotherhood here? It seems to me they'd like nothing more than to see you in their armor," Fawkes replied. John snickered at that. He was sure they would.

"I'm not wearing Brotherhood armor. I'm going to wear that set of Hellfire armor I customized. It's superior to anything the Brotherhood has available to them." There was a silence as what he had said sunk in.

"So…you're going to wear Enclave power armor while on a mission with the Brotherhood of Steel. Is that what you're saying?" Charon asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," the Wanderer replied, rising off the bed and languidly stretching out. "Now let's go catch our ride to Megaton."

* * *

The wait for the Vertibird to be prepared for take-off passed in awkward silence; the Wanderer and his two companions keeping to themselves on one side of the Courtyard, the Pride and Sarah on the other. For her part, Sarah thought it was ridiculous. Just because the Wanderer and her father had argued didn't mean he had to feel uncomfortable or act like the Pride was his enemy. She chose not to just walk over and tell him, opting instead to leave him to his friends' company. She would address it when they finally talked, after the raid on Evergreen Mills was over. The Vertibird's crew chief finished his preparations in a prompt manner, and signaled to the assembled group to load up. The cargo hold of the bird made for a cramped fit, with the entirety of the Lyons' Pride in their power armor and the oversized bulk of Fawkes taking up much of the space.

"What are you getting in Megaton?" Sarah asked over the sound of the rotors.

"I need to get my power armor and some extra weaponry," the Wanderer yelled back as the bird converted into normal flight and took off toward Megaton. "Try not to shoot me when you see my armor. I made some markings on it so that you would know it's me." Sarah raised an eyebrow at that, unsure what to make of it. The flight to Megaton passed quickly and largely in silence, Sarah checking her gear as the Wanderer leaned his head back against the cabin's wall, eyes closed as if he were sleeping. She envied him his apparent tranquility. She could already feel her adrenaline beginning to ramp up, in preparation for a potential fight.

Megaton arrived quickly, and the pilot set the bird down outside of the main gates, near an old road that ran passed the town. The entire group unloaded from the aircraft, the members of the Pride stretching out and joking amongst themselves while the Wanderer and his group made their way up the small hill to the entrance and into the town itself. The members of the Pride set about doing a comms check while the Wanderer was absent, making sure the radios built into their power armor were set to the same frequency and that they could all hear each other. Sarah had her back to Megaton's gate, and it was the look of shock on the face of Glade and Kodiak that let her know something was wrong.

"Holy shit…" Kodiak muttered, as Sarah spun around to see what was wrong. Her heart jumped as she did; her first instinct being to reach for her laser rifle and shoot. Approaching them was a set of jet-black power armor, bulky and easily more powerful than the armor the Brotherhood wore. The helmet had not been put on yet, and Sarah realized quickly that it was the Wanderer. _So that's why he said not to shoot him. Maybe he had a point about instincts back at the Citadel._ She scanned the armor, the markings he had made to distinguish himself obvious as he arrived at the group. The Pride was a mixture of silence; some too shocked that he was wearing Enclave armor to say anything, others, like Dusk, obviously unhappy at it. The only thing that set it apart from the Hellfire armor worn by the most elite Enclave troopers were the markings he had drawn on the chest. In red paint, over the left portion of the chest plate, was a cross. Beneath it were words Sarah didn't understand.

"_In hoc signo,"_ she read aloud, stumbling over the pronunciation of the unfamiliar words. "What does that mean?" The Wanderer smiled back at her, a smile of overwhelming confidence.

"It means 'In this sign'. The Lord gave a vision of the cross to the Emperor Constantine, thousands of years ago, before he fought a major battle. And he told him 'in this sign you shall conquer.' In Latin, that was '_In hoc signo vinces,'_" he replied, sounding every bit the chaplain that he was before he escaped from the Vault.

"Whatever you say," Sarah replied, half frustrated. The Wanderer slung his plasma rifle over his shoulder as she spoke, before stringing a bandolier across his chest; one full of plasma grenades. "You ready to get this show on the road? The sun is beginning to set," she continued, nodding towards the west.

"Alright," he began. "Let's do it. Do the pilots know the plan?" the Wanderer asked as the group piled back into the Vertibird; even more cramped with the addition of his power armored frame.

"I briefed them, yes. They know what to do." He nodded at her confirmation, giving her one last, cocky wink before fixing his helmet to the rest of the armor. He had made modifications to its onboard computer, syncing it to the Pip-Boy he wore. Now, instead of having to look down to his wrist and potentially being distracted, the display of the Pip-Boy would come up on the Heads-Up Display the power armor had built in. The Hellfire armor that the Enclave scientists had developed was far in advance of the T-45d armor that the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland had been forced into using by years of wear and tear on the T-51b armor they had left California with. Even T-51b armor wasn't as advanced as the Hellfire armor, though. It was, the Wanderer had discovered during his tinkering, because of the power systems and servos in the armor. T-51b armor would certainly amplify a user's strength; but it still felt heavy, it could be uncomfortable to wear largely because of the inefficiency of the mini-reactor that powered it. In the 200 years that had interceded between the development of T-51b armor and Hellfire armor, the Enclave had actually managed to make further advances in technology; not regressing as most of the world had, or merely preserving as the Brotherhood did. The Wanderer snapped himself back to reality at that thought. _They were the Enclave. They killed dad, wanted to kill everyone in this Wasteland. Stop sounding like you're admiring them._

_It's not admiration, it's pragmatism. They have better stuff than the Brotherhood. Somewhere they must have some sort of infrastructure to produce it. If we could find that…_

_Focus on Evergreen Mills before you start plotting your next adventure._ His internal argument ended as the Vertibird began to slow down. The crew chief stood up and signaled to Gallows and Colvin that it was their stop. The ramp began to lower as the bird lightly touched down, the two men running out and into the darkness of the night as the aircraft took back off and circled backwards, towards the entrance of the canyon; picking a safe spot to set down, about 100 meters from the narrow passageway. The pilot killed the engines as they landed, the cargo hold's ramp lowering again to allow the group to disembark. They formed into a circle, Sarah and the Wanderer looking across it at each other, Fawkes and Charon making their way towards the canyon entrance, prepping their weapons as they did.

"You've got the plan, Sarah?"

"I do. We'll be prepared for the captives coming out as well," she replied, not liking the plan at all.

"Alright. I'll see you back here in a bit," he replied, voice distorted and made all the more menacing by his armor's speakers.

"Try not to get killed," she sighed; knowing that he, of course, would not get killed and that the fight that would happen would probably be the stuff of legends. He had a talent for those sorts of battles. The Wanderer flashed her a thumbs up before setting off toward where his companions stood, nodding at them before taking the lead as they moved toward Evergreen Mills.

"This is such bullshit," Dusk spat out as she set into her security position, scanning for any threats. "Why are we stuck babysitting the Vertibird while he goes in and kicks ass?"

"We don't want to risk any friendly-fire incidents, Dusk. Besides, someone has to guard the captives and the bird," Sarah replied, trying to put on a brave face of being ok with what was happening, when nothing could be further from the truth. The Pride specialized in aggressive action; the task of guarding a Vertibird was something better suited to a group of initiates than to her squad. Yet another thing she intended to take up with the Wanderer, when the night was over.

* * *

Finally away from the presence of the Brotherhood, the Wanderer felt free. He led his small group toward Evergreen Mills, noticing, as he did, the broken down caravan offering free water. As it had the night before, something felt wrong about it. He held up a hand to signal Fawkes and Charon to hold back as he approached it, his armor giving him a warning that there were mines planted in the wreckage. _Shit. It was a trap to lure in Wastelanders. Should have guessed. _He dropped into a crouch and moved toward the caravan, disarming the mines rapidly. Completing his work, he waved Fawkes and Charon forward.

"From here it's going to open into the old facility. There's going to be open space, but at least last night the raiders were mostly asleep. I want to free the captives first, and then once they're out of the way we go in guns blazing."

"We've got you covered," Charon replied, his voice the ghoulish version of a whisper. The Wanderer nodded at him in confirmation, before resuming his place at the front and moving toward where he remembered the slave pens to be. It was quiet, and no raiders appeared along their path. He knew somewhere on the heights Colvin and Gallows would be watching through the scopes on their suppressed sniper rifles. In front of him, in the distance, he saw the slave pens. Through the enhanced night-sight on his armor, he could make out a figure sitting, arms wrapped around its knees, as if looking or waiting for something. As he got closer he realized that it was the woman from the night before. She did not hear the group approach, jumping as he whispered to her.

"Told you I'd come back," he said, the woman whipping around to find his voice, the shock giving way to relief.

"I knew you would. The rest of them couldn't believe you were here last night," she replied as he drew the key to the pen out from where he had stored it, moving around to unlock the pen.

"Wake the others up," he told her as the gate swung open, Fawkes and Charon covering the area behind him as he entered the pen to address the captives. They woke up quickly and gathered around him, shock showing at the sight of the power armored figure. With the small group of captives assembled, he spoke again. "All of you, get out of here. Follow the narrow path out through the canyon, passed the caravan wreckage. There's a Brotherhood Vertibird waiting just outside the mouth of the canyon, guarded by a squad of Brotherhood troops. Get to them and they'll make sure you're safe. We're going to destroy this place," he explained, the eyes of the captives lighting up. "We'll walk you back toward where you need to go. Now let's go," he continued, rising to his feet and purposefully striding out, the group of captives following in his wake. Fawkes and Charon fell in behind the group, covering their sides and read as they quickly moved back to where they had entered, just passed the first, smaller building. The Wanderer pointed towards the wrecked caravan and spoke again.

"That way. Go, now!" He didn't have to speak twice as the group set off running away from Evergreen Mills and towards freedom. When they were out of sight, he turned back to Fawkes and Charon. "Let's start with this building here," he said, nodding at it. "Normal stack. Fawkes, boot the door in. I'll go through first. Charon, right behind me. Fawkes, be ready; once the shooting starts we may get a lot of company coming from the foundry." The mutant and the ghoul nodded in acknowledgement before proceeding, quietly, towards the small building. The Wanderer pressed himself against the right side of the door, Charon looking across at him from the left, mirroring his posture. Fawkes brought his Gatling laser up and, with no hesitation, drove his huge boot into the door; knocking it off its hinges and flying back into the room. The Wanderer and Charon showed no hesitation, each storming into the room right behind the door. The Wanderer was the first through the door, and was met by the sight of a sleeping raider rolling over, grabbing for a weapon as the sudden noise startled him to alertness. He never reached any weapon, the Wanderer's plasma rifle ending the raider's life and reducing him to a pile of glowing, sub-atomic goo. The report of Charon's shotgun let the Wanderer know that whoever was on the other side of the room, in his blind spot, was now dead too. The two men scanned the room, finding no more signs of life. Satisfied that it was clear, the Wanderer lowered his rifle and turned back to Fawkes, who was facing away from him, covering their backs.

"Fawkes, throw me one of those charges we got from the Brotherhood!" he called out. Without looking at him Fawkes grabbed a charge from the pack he had on and threw it to the Wanderer. He caught it and set it up along what appeared to be the main supporting beam for the structure. The charge itself had the same basic principle as a Mini-Nuke that would be used in a Fat Man; it would detonate with an extremely low-yield fusion reaction; a basic uranium-gun type charge that was nearly foolproof. The Wanderer rose back to his feet when he was done setting the charge, Charon falling in behind him as they made their way back out of the building. "Any signs of company?" he asked Fawkes as they exited.

"None. It is still quiet," the super-mutant growled.

"Good," the Wanderer replied, taking the lead and shouldering his plasma rifle as they moved out. "Let's move on the foundry. I think that's where most of them are." His group formed into a staggered column, each covering an angle of their approach so as to not be surprised. As they moved, the Wanderer saw, approaching from the distance, two raiders. He threw his fist up and dropped to a knee, Charon and Fawkes mimicking the movement, hoping to remain unnoticed as long as possible. The two raiders were heading right for them; likely on the way to investigate the noises they had just heard. The Wanderer raised his plasma rifle, prepared to kill both men, but was preempted as the raider's heads simultaneously exploded and they silently collapsed to the ground. It was an excellent display of shooting; confirmation that Gallows and Colvin were on top of their game and closely covering the Wanderer's movements. He knew they would be too well concealed to spot, and so remained focused on his immediate surroundings; rising to his feet and continuing to the foundry itself, no further raiders appearing along the way. The main entrance to the foundry was a sturdy looking metal door; Charon and the Wanderer fell in alongside it the way they had for the first building.

"Think you can kick it in?" Charon asked Fawkes, who nodded in reply.

"On my count, Fawkes. Charon, once the door goes in, we each chuck a plasma grenade in and assault through once they go off. Fawkes, you come in with us. Colvin and Gallows should be able to cover this position from where they are," the Wanderer added, drawing two plasma grenades from his bandolier and handing one to Charon. They nodded at each other, each depressing the primer button on the top of the grenade. Once released it would detonate in three seconds. Keeping a firm grip on the button, the Wanderer looked to Fawkes.

"Alright, big guy. 3…2…1…NOW!" he yelled, Fawkes bellowing as he kicked the door with all his strength, knocking it down as Charon and the Wanderer tossed their grenades in behind it. The sounds of commotion inside were interrupted by the detonation of the two grenades, the yelling cut off by screaming and cries of pain. The Wanderer showed no hesitation, immediately rolling through the door and raising his weapon; firing before the two raiders in front of him knew he was there. Charon was right behind him, his shotgun sending a female raider with an assault rifle flying backwards into a wall, her blood streaking down it as she dropped to the floor. From behind them, the Wanderer heard Fawkes' Gatling laser roar to life; ending the lives of two raiders on the catwalks above him. The upper half of one man's body dropped to the floor from the catwalk, pouring blood and entrails as it did. The room was silent, but in the distance the Wanderer could hear movement. A door on the opposite end of the room flew open, a group of raiders running to meet the sounds of combat. The narrow doorway proved to be their doom; Charon's shotgun and Fawkes' Gatling laser cutting them down without mercy as the Wanderer placed more charges along the foundation of the foundry.

"All clear," Charon rasped back to him as the Wanderer rose to his feet, returning to his place at the head of the formation.

"Good. Let's move through that room there," he replied, nodding towards the door the raiders had come through. They proceeded into the next room, finding it quiet. In fact, they met minimal opposition the rest of the way, finding only three more raiders in the building. The Wanderer was beginning to be taken aback when the reason came into sight in one of the rooms. An entrance in the ground into what appeared to be a tunnel or cave network. _So I was right. There is one here. _He wordlessly leapt down into the caverns, Charon and Fawkes close behind. The tunnels were narrow, opening at the end into a massive cavern. All hell broke loose as they moved toward it. It became apparent that the raiders had opted to make a stand in the cavern; assault rifle fire bouncing off the Wanderer's power armor and the rocks surrounding his companions and him. They took cover behind the largest rocks they could find; Charon and the Wanderer throwing more plasma grenades into the area as Fawkes stepped forward, his Gatling laser spewing destruction. The Wanderer and Charon followed his example, raising their own weapons and cutting short the lives of more raiders. It rapidly became a massacre, the remaining raiders throwing down their weapons and crying out for mercy; a man coming from what appeared to be a merchant's shop with his hands in the air. The Wanderer raised his hands, silencing his companion's fire.

"Cease fire. Let's round the survivors up," he said, noticing a red light illuminating a tunnel. As he moved toward it he realized what it was-a brothel. His realization was cut short as the madam leapt forward with a knife from hiding. She never had a chance to use it as the Wanderer unloaded a vicious punch, his own strength greatly augmented by the armor's; caving in the front of her face and dropping her to the ground, spasming as she died. He looked at the gauntlet of the glove, mildly disgusted by the gore on it, before moving forward. He found the women locked in cells, all with slave collars on. It was not a surprising development for him. What did surprise him, however, was the ferocity with which the women attempted to set upon him once their cages were unlocked. His attempts to fend them off in a non-lethal manner failing, he resorted to killing the entire group with his plasma rifle, regret boiling as he did. _Why would they do that? Why wouldn't they want to be free?_ The angry thought thumped through his mind as a response immediately came. _Maybe they felt safe down here. Maybe they had been brainwashed into sympathizing with their captors. No point dwelling on it now. It was self-defense. _Leaving the bodies of the dead behind, he made his way back out to the main cavern; finding Charon and Fawkes guarding a kneeling group of eight raiders who had surrendered. He nodded at Fawkes and Charon before speaking.

"Either of you search the place yet?"

"No," Charon replied, his gaze never leaving the prisoners.

"Let's do it now, then. They might have some good stuff down here. Fawkes, keep covering them," he said as he and Charon set about searching the canyon. The first stop the Wanderer could see was the merchant's stall. He entered it and was not disappointed. Laying on the ground was a very obviously modified combat shotgun that looked to be in pristine condition. Checking to make sure it wasn't part of a trap; he knelt down and picked it up. _Terrible_ it said on its wood stock. Turning to Charon, the Wanderer held the weapon up.

"Hey, Charon. Got a present for you," he said, tossing the weapon to the ghoul. Charon turned the weapon over appreciatively, nodding his approval at the modifications that had been made.

"You sure you want to give this to me?" he asked.

"Yeah. You're better with shotguns than I am, anyway. You're practically a surgeon with those things," the Wanderer replied as he continued searching. Outside of some assorted medical supplies, the only thing that caught his eye was a small, blue figurine. Looking at it, he realized it was a commemorative Vault-Tec Bobblehead. Inside his helm, he smiled to himself. Picking it up, he stuck it in one of the empty pouches on his bandolier. Back at home, in Megaton, he had an entire collection of the things going. Finally satisfied that they had found everything of worth in the stall, the two men exited back out to the cavern. The merchant that had come out of the stall to surrender did not fail to notice Charon carrying his prized possession.

"Hey, that's Terrible! You can't take my shotgun!" the man said, voice full of indignation. Charon's face displayed what passed as the ghoulish version of a smirk as the Wanderer walked away from the group to set more charges, looking to collapse the entire cave complex.

"Says who? You?" the ghoul replied, enjoying the anger of the raider-come-merchant. The group of raiders fell silent, their terror at the presence of the trio far outweighing any desire to attempt to talk their way out of the situation. The reputation of the three companions had proceeded them across the Wasteland. On some level, all the raiders in the room had feared that this day would come. It was why they had banded together in such numbers, hoping that together they could defeat the group. They had, as they now saw, grievously miscalculated. Once he had finished setting the charges, the Wanderer returned to the group, nodding at his companions before addressing the collected raiders.

"All of you. On your feet, now," he said, gesturing with his plasma rifle to make them stand. Like sheep heading to a slaughter, the group stood and wordlessly began to file out, hands on their heads as they made their way back up into the foundry. They continued out into the canyon that the facility was built into, the Wanderer stopping them in an open area a safe distance from all the buildings. Wordlessly, Fawkes handed him the detonator to the charges, before looking away from where the blasts would come from, Charon doing the same. Without a moment's hesitation, the Wanderer depressed the button on the detonator. A moment later, the sky lit up a bright as at midday; the entire canyon bathed in radioactive light.

* * *

The boom of a massive explosion, followed by the night sky lighting up, drew the attention of all the assembled group at the Vertibird. All looked toward Evergreen Mills, watching as the initial flash of light dimmed and was replaced by an orange glow and sight of smoke rising into the air.

"What the fuck?" Dusk whispered, her voice expressing the shock that they all felt.

"I don't know. I just hope some sort of accident didn't sent the entire place up with our guys inside," Sarah replied, thoughts going to Colvin and Gallows and the Wanderer. The only sound coming now was the sound of the wind, blowing hot and whipping towards the canyon. Sarah realized that there must be a sizable fire burning, drawing air towards it. The sound of the wind was interrupted by the distinct thump of Vertibird rotors approaching. That made Sarah's heart skip a beat, as she looked around, spotting the strobe lights on the quickly approaching bird.

"What the hell is another bird doing here?" she said aloud, whipping around to the crew chief and pilots. "Did you all get any communications from the Citadel?" she demanded. The men shrugged in response.

"Nothing, Sentinel. We haven't heard anything since we left." Sarah's confusion grew as the bird came in to land next to their own landing zone, a squad of Knights and Paladins disembarking from it, all heavily armed. The Sentinel strode over to the ranking Paladin in the group and addressed him directly.

"What're you doing here? We received no word from the Citadel about any reinforcements," she began.

"Direct orders from the Elder, Sentinel. We're to secure the complex and any prisoners," the man replied. Sarah was shocked at the response. _Does father not trust us to be able to do the job? No…it's the Wanderer. He doesn't trust him to follow his orders. _

"You may want to hurry, then," she replied, nodding towards the orange glow in the distance. "I think it just went up in flames." The Paladin nodded and moved out with his squad. As soon as they were out of earshot, Sarah opened her channel to Colvin.

"Colvin? Heads up, the Elder just sent another squad down to reinforce us. What's going on in there?" There was a moment's silence before Colvin's voice came back over the radio.

"You'd have to see it to believe it, Sentinel," came his response.

* * *

The raging fires consuming what remained of Evergreen Mills had made the inside of the canyon bright, casting eerie shadows over the undulating land and rocks. The Wanderer and his companions hung back in the shadows, gazing at their handiwork. They had lynched all but one of the raiders from the crossbeams of the structures that had remained standing. Seven bodies swung in the orange light, the heat from the fires enough to begin burning the corpses. They had pleaded for mercy as the trio had strung them up, one by one, until the last one, a young woman, was the only remaining raider. And that's where they had stopped. Now came the final part of the Wanderer's plan that he had formulated separately, with his companions. Terror. They had retreated to the shadows to allow the lone raider that survived to see the full horror of the fate that had met her friends. They had blindfolded her before the hangings had begun; her only knowledge of the events coming from their screams as they died. After a moment of silence passed, she spoke.

"What are you?" she whispered, her voice wavering. Inside his helm, the Wanderer smiled. The question was the perfect set-up for the theatricality he had planned out, the message he intended to send her out with into the Wastes. From the back of his memory, the Wanderer called on his old self, a chaplain named John Thompson, to remember the verses of Revelation 6.

"Come and see," he said, his armor making his voice even more resonant. Fawkes stepped into the orange light as he spoke. "And there went out another horse that was red: power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword." The woman quaked as Fawkes slowly, menacingly stepped more into the light. The Wanderer was not finished, though.

"And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand," the Wanderer continued as Charon stepped into the light; the fires making the effects the radiation had on his skin even more grotesque. "And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine." The raider remained silent as Charon took his place alongside Fawkes, the hot wind causing his duster to billow out behind him. Finally, the woman looked to where he sat, speaking in the shadows.

"Who are you?" she asked again, her voice pleading this time.

"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see," the Wanderer pressed on, allowing the woman's fear and tension to build to a crescendo. "And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth," he continued, stepping out into the light of the fires. The glow of the fires flickered off of his black armor as he slowly walked towards the raider, dropping to his knees in front of her. "We are the doom of your entire kind. I want you to go, now. I am leaving you alive. You go to Paradise Falls, and wherever else your kind lurks, and you tell them what we did there. You tell them that War, and Pestilence, and finally Death are coming for all of them. If they throw down their weapons and stop attacking innocent people, we will show them the same mercy we've shown you. If not…none will be left alive. Do you understand?" The raider wordlessly nodded at him, her voice gone. The Wanderer nodded back, satisfied at her response. "Good. Leave, now," he continued, pointing at the exit. She staggered back and, without a second thought, sprinted toward the exit. The Wanderer looked up to watch her go, the sight of a squad of Brotherhood soldiers entering the area catching him off guard. He could immediately tell it was not Sarah and her group. _This could get ugly._

* * *

"He executed them all," came the response over the radio for a second time. Sarah, indeed, the entire Pride, were in shock.

"What do you mean executed?" Sarah radioed back to Colvin.

"Hung them. All of them. He and the mutant and the ghoul used the cables we gave them and strung all the raiders up from the destroyed buildings while they were still alive. God, one of the bodies is burning now. The smell, Sarah…" he replied, his voice beginning to shake. If something was horrifying enough to rattle Colvin, she had no desire to see it. "And now the squad the Elder sent is confronting him. What are my orders, Sentinel?" Sarah's mind raced as she thought, her response coming instinctively.

"Get out of there. You and Gallows both, get back to the LZ. There's nothing you can do from there."

"Roger. Moving now," Colvin replied, sounding more relieved than everything. They arrived several minutes later, Colvin without his helmet; his face telling them all they needed to know about what had just happened. He and Gallows said nothing, and none of the Pride or the rescued captives asked what had happened. The silence continued for what felt like an eternity before, in the distance, Sarah saw the Wanderer and his crew approaching. His helmet was off as well; and his face showed a mixture of thrill at his triumph and what she assumed was anger at the unexpected squad the Elder had sent down. He approached her and, before she could greet him, spoke.

"What the fuck was that back there?" he demanded, gesturing at the other Vertibird as he spoke.

"I have no idea, John. We weren't told anything in advance, it was a decision the Elder made by himself." The Wanderer scowled.

"I see. Well, tell the Elder that the job is done. Evergreen Mills is a ruin, and the raiders here are all dead." The implied meaning in his words took her by surprise.

"Are you not returning to the Citadel with us? The Elder and Scribe Rothchild will expect you to debrief them.."

"I have nothing to say. You debrief them. If they have any questions about what went on inside they can ask Colvin or Gallows. We're going back to Megaton," he said. And without waiting for her to reply, he set off into the night, Fawkes and Charon at his side.

* * *

**So this took forever to do. Sorry about that for those of you following it. Got busy with school and the main story I'm working on now, which is getting more complex and requiring more attention. I'm going to try and get on a regular schedule or rotating updates between this and the story that this is a prelude to, An Ember in the Dark (shameless plug, again; if you haven't read it it's my main story at the moment). Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and if you have thoughts, lay them on me. **


	3. Take a Chance

"Does that make me an asshole?" John asked Nova, sitting across from him at the bar in Moriarty's. He had just finished relaying the story of what had went down at the end of the raid on Evergreen Mills. At the opposite end of the bar Charon quietly spoke with Gob, but aside from them, the bar was empty. Fawkes had left to scout the area around Vault 87. The three had already decided that the destruction of Evergreen Mills should buy them enough time to attack the super-mutants where they lived and destroy their means of reproducing. He had no intention of including the Brotherhood in the operation after the incident that occurred after he had cleared the raiders out of Evergreen Mills.

"Yeah, maybe a bit of one. It's not like it was her fault that her dad sent down more people without telling you," Nova replied in between taking drags on her cigarette. She had become John's main person to talk to when he had a question about women. With most people he wouldn't even talk about his personal life; not wanting people to see behind the façade that his Lone Wanderer personality created. He felt at home in Megaton, though. He liked the people, and too many of them had known him before his legend took off to fool them into thinking he was a machine. Here, with Nova and Lucas and the others, he could let his guard down and just be John again. It was a welcome respite from what he had to do everywhere else he went. It had occurred to him that even Sarah had never really seen him as John; almost all of her interactions with him, aside from the time at Project Purity, had been when he was the Lone Wanderer. Even Amata had been thrown off by the change, the previous December; but she knew him too well to be fooled for long. They had a saying, between the two of them; had used it to describe themselves since they were teenagers: one soul, two bodies. The other half of his soul had immediately seen past the hard exterior he had begun to put up, finding the humanity in him again…

_Stop. Thinking. Of. Amata. She betrayed you._

_She did what she thought was best for the Vault; no different than what you do out here._

_She used you. Took your help, took control of the Vault; took your love one last time and let you think you could come home, and then she threw you back out into this hellhole. _

The door of the bar opening distracted John from the argument between his two halves. Fawkes ducked through the doorway, the makeshift leather armor he had forged flecked with blood. The super-mutant had apparently found some sort of a fight.

"What'd you find, Fawkes?" John asked as Fawkes took a seat in the corner of the bar. From behind him John heard Charon walk over to join them.

"My brothers that guard the exterior entrance to Vault 87 are dead, my friend. The area is, however, heavily irradiated; as we suspected. There is no way to enter the Vault from the outside. We will have to go through Little Lamplight, I am afraid," Fawkes reported. John swore under his breath at that. MacCready was not going to be pleased when John showed up asking to come in with one of the monsters that the children feared in tow. All the same, though, it would be much easier to enter Little Lamplight with Charon and Fawkes than trying to convince MacCready to let the rest of the Lyons' Pride in. Fawkes' report strengthened John's determination to go in alone and destroy the Vault. For John, it was pure pragmatism: it'd be easier to gain entry in a small group; for the Lone Wanderer, it was pride and a determination to show the Brotherhood that they needed him more than he needed them. _Lose the pride, John. Pride goeth before destruction,_ he reminded himself.

"Sounds good. Thank you, Fawkes. Let's prepare ourselves to go in and destroy the place in the next day," John responded.

"You still determined to cut the Brotherhood out?" Charon asked from where he stood.

"Yeah," John began. "What good would they do, anyway? MacCready won't let them in and the hallways in the Vault are too cramped for them to move through. It'd just be a bloodbath. Besides, the areas we eventually need to reach are irradiated; only you and Fawkes can get to them without a problem."

"Which areas are those, my friend?" Fawkes asked.

"The Vault's reactor core and the FEV testing area. We need to get the FEV to stop them from being able to convert people; and I want you two to cause the reactor to overload. That should generate a large enough explosion to destroy the Vault."

"Why not just let the FEV burn with the Vault?" Charon asked.

"Don't want to risk anything surviving the explosion," John began. "And I guess on some level I want to have a chance to take a look at the FEV in a clinical setting. Maybe I could figure out a way to reverse engineer the stuff, at least see how it works." Charon nodded back at him.

"You think you have the equipment for that?"

"I know a lab I can use," John responded, smirking. The lab was in orbit, but it was isolated and there was no chance of anyone trying to steal the FEV from him there.

"What about after we destroy the Vault?" Fawkes asked.

"Then the super-mutants' time should be limited. With no way to repopulate, we can hunt them down and destroy them. That's actually something the Brotherhood would be useful doing," John admitted. Fawkes had been right, back at the Citadel before they went into Evergreen Mills. It wasn't entirely wise to disregard the Brotherhood. In a stand up fight where they could maneuver more easily, the Brotherhood would be very effective in combating the super-mutants. Fawkes and Charon nodded in agreement, accepting his plan, as Three-Dog's voice came over the radio at the bar. It had been four days since the raid on Evergreen Mills, and no announcement had yet been made. That had surprised John and his companions. Normally Three-Dog was quick to report the major happenings across the Wasteland.

_Hello, Children! It's me, Three-Dog, your master of ceremonies. Seems we've got…a bit of news! Remember how I warned you all about there being a raider camp out by Evergreen Mills? Well, children, Three-Dog can exclusively report that it is no more! That's right, it's gone! How? It seems that our boys from the Brotherhood launched a daring nighttime raid on the facility; led by none other than Sentinel Sarah Lyons herself. Sounds almost too good to be true, right? But wait, kiddies…it gets better. Because one of our favorite people was part of the squad that took the place down! That's right, the Wasteland's own Messiah, that kid from Vault 101, joined up with the Brotherhood to fight the Good Fight! Great job, Lyons. And good decision on joining up, kid. You're an example to everyone else out there. Now, some music._

There was silence as the group in the bar stared at the radio. Nova's face betrayed some surprise, given that she had heard the story firsthand from John; who, for his part, had his jaw locked in anger.

"What. The. Fuck." He said, attempting to control his temper.

"That was…not entirely accurate," Fawkes admitted from where he sat.

"Not accurate?!" John exploded. "They didn't even go in! They babysat the Vertibird!" The realization of what had happened occurred to him as he ranted. "Lyons. That motherfucker. I bet you anything he had that story spoon-fed to Three-Dog."

"Great. Just what we need. You and the Elder in a pissing match," Charon said in his raspy voice. John rounded on Charon, looking up into the ghoul's face.

"This isn't a pissing match. We did the fucking work and that washed up has-been is stealing our fucking glory!"

"There was no glory in Evergreen Mills, my friend. Only a necessary evil," Fawkes responded; ever the voice of reason. John sighed. In reality, what he had done in Evergreen Mills, when he was the Lone Wanderer, was eating at him deeply. Those raiders had surrendered, and he had mercilessly had them executed. It shook him to his core that he could be so callous about human life, regardless of how it had been lived. _And who are you to pass judgment? Remember Matthew's words? "Judge not, that you not be judged." _

"I know, Fawkes. But it had to be done. Hopefully what we did there will help peace come to the Wasteland." Charon, for his part, opted to not partake in the philosophical debate.

"It's done. Doesn't matter now. Now what about destroying Vault 87?" he asked. John looked at the time on his Pip-Boy. It was early afternoon. He wasn't so intoxicated that he couldn't operate; and they had been resting for several days. It made sense to move on 87 as soon as possible.

"Fawkes, do you have the energy to go back in tonight?" John asked. Fawkes nodded confirmation.

"Of course, my friend. I will do as you command." John sighed at Fawkes' response.

"Fawkes, I'm not your master. I'm your friend. Did your recon of the Vault tire you out too much to go back tonight?" he repeated.

"I have enough energy to see it done, John. And perhaps I will find some peace in the destruction of that place," Fawkes responded. John nodded back at him.

"Ok, then. Tonight. Let's get our stuff together and head to Little Lamplight," he replied, turning back to Gob and Nova. "You two have a good day. See you tomorrow," he said, smiling at them. Nova rolled her eyes at him.

"Right. Just don't go getting killed, the three of you," she responded, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray as she did. John placed a handful of caps on the counter; more than enough to cover his drinks and leave Gob with some spare ones to tuck away. John had found out that Moriarty was hoarding Nova and Gob's pay, and had start discretely sliding them money so they could save up and eventually have enough to survive if they made a break for it. With a last nod at his friends, he made for the door. Stepping out of the bar and into the heat of the day, John Thompson went away. In his place the Lone Wanderer came out.

* * *

Sarah sat across from her father in his private quarters, a hint of tension palpable in the air. It had been four days since Evergreen Mills, four days since her father had sent in a squad of Brotherhood troops without telling her or the Wanderer about it; further damaging the fragile relationship they had with the young man from Vault 101. Sarah's position in the matter only complicated things. By now most of the Brotherhood, her father included, had heard about the Wanderer kissing her in Project Purity. She had become, by default if nothing else, the Brotherhood's strongest link; their greatest asset in keeping the Wanderer on their side. That was what had brought her to her father's office, she knew; to discuss how to assuage the young man's anger about being caught off guard in Evergreen Mills. Her father, Scribe Rothchild; all the Brotherhood had reacted with shock when they heard of the brutality with which the Wanderer had disposed of the raiders that night. Gallows had gone back in, the day after the raid, to do an independent analysis of the battlefield. He had found indications that there had been a massive cave complex underneath the foundry; it's collapsed remains forming a sinkhole in the complex. The way that the entire complex had been brought down with the high explosives indicated that the Wanderer had an almost absurd grasp of engineering and demolitions.

"So what do you want me to do, dad?" she asked. They had discussed her thoughts on the raid; what the meaning of the Wanderer wearing Enclave armor was, his reaction the extra men the Elder had sent in. Sarah and the Elder had had a very in-depth discussion about that little surprise. The Elder's explanation had surprised her greatly. He talked at great length, with something that resembled passion, about how he had seen a man like the Wanderer before. That one had been back in California, before Sarah had been born; the similarities between the man they had called the Chosen One and the Wanderer were almost eerie. Elder Lyons had gone on to explain that the Chosen One, a man whose birth name was Yudhajit, had become the Elder of his village after he had destroyed the Enclave's oil rig and stopped them from releasing their airborne strain of the FEV into the atmosphere. Things had started off well; he and his wife, Miria, leading his former tribesmen and their cousins from Vault 13 in rebuilding Arroyo with the assistance of the G.E.C.K. But as the years passed, he grew bored with peace, restlessness taking his focus away until finally, and quite suddenly, he laid down the mantle of power and disappeared into the Wastes with his wife and their child; not to be heard from again. The Elder had explained to Sarah that his intent wasn't to crush the Wanderer, or to take away who he was at his core; it was to provide the young man focus so that the entire Wasteland could benefit from his abilities, in the way Arroyo had not had a chance to benefit from the Chosen One's for very long. The explanation had taken Sarah aback, and had led to her viewing the situation in a new light. It had cooled some of the anger she had felt at her father in the days since the raid.

"Go to Megaton and speak to the young man. He'll listen to you more than any of the rest of us. See if you can't get him to come back in and sit down with Reginald and myself so that we can put the business of Evergreen Mills behind us and move on with what is necessary for the Wasteland." Sarah nodded at her father, a slight smile crossing her face.

"Mind if I take Colvin with me? He and John like each other, they're both Christians." A kindly smile formed on the Elder's face as he looked with pride at his daughter.

"Whatever you think is necessary, Sarah. I leave the decision to you," he replied. The two sat quietly together, talking about the future of the Wasteland, until they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Enter," the Elder softly commanded. The door opened and Scribe Rothchild entered the room, smiling at Sarah before pulling up a free chair and sitting alongside her.

"Excuse the interruption Elder, Sentinel," he began, making his apologies. "I just received a report from our people at Project Purity that I thought you should know about." A look of interest crossed the Elder's face.

"And what is that, Reginald?"

"Some of the Scribes were doing work in the sub-basements of the building and came across a room we hadn't gone through before. They found two body bags with human remains in them," he began; a look of horrible realization forming on Sarah's face. She knew where this one was going.

"It's his dad, isn't it?" she asked. Rothchild looked at her before nodding.

"The bodies are badly decomposed at this point; but yes, the remains would appear to be those of James and the woman that died there, Janice Kaplinski. We'd have to get a sample of DNA from the Wanderer to confirm that it is indeed James, but the anatomical analysis of the skeleton appears to indicate it is James." The Elder nodded solemnly before looking at Sarah, who met his gaze.

"I'm going to leave for Megaton now, then," she began, rising from her seat. "He deserves to know." The Elder nodded at her.

"Very well, Sarah. Steel be with you."

"And with you, father," she replied, before leaving the room. She made her way to the Den quickly, feeling an added sense of urgency after the news Rothchild had delivered. She found Colvin there and, explaining the situation to him, quickly armed and armored themselves before setting off for Megaton, ready to be the bearers of bad news.

* * *

"Why the fuck should I let your friends in, mungo?" MacCready called down from his post at the top of the gate the entered into Little Lamplight. The Wanderer sighed in frustration. He had expected MacCready to be a pain in the ass.

"God dammit, MacCready, I told you. We need to get into the Vault so we can destroy it for good. If we take it out, you won't have any more problems with the monsters again," he explained through gritted teeth. The Wanderer was arrayed in his Hellfire armor, the helmet carried under his arm as he argued with the mayor of Little Lamplight.

"I guess. But if either of them tries a fuckin' thing, we'll shoot both their freak asses," the foul-mouthed 12 year old called down. The gate swung open as MacCready came down to meet them.

"God, I can't wait till you turn 16, MacCready. I cannot fucking wait for you to have to go to Big Town. The Wasteland is going to tear your smart little ass up. And if the Wasteland doesn't, Red will," the Wanderer replied as he and his companions entered Little Lamplight; placing the helmet of his power armor on before MacCready could respond. Ignoring the boy completely, the three men made their way to the secondary entrance to Vault 87 that the Wanderer had managed to hack open during his first visit, several months earlier when he was searching for a G.E.C.K. The Wanderer looked to his two companions before reiterating the plan.

"Fawkes, you still willing to take the lead?"

"Of course. My memory of the lay out is still adequate."

"Do you remember the irradiated areas?"

"Yes, my friend. I will warn you when we approach them."

"Good. I didn't take any Rad-X and I'm not in the mood to turn into a ghoul today. No offense, Charon," he added on as an afterthought.

"None taken," Charon replied, snickering. Without another word the three men entered the Vault, Fawkes sweeping the area with his Gatling laser, ready to lay low any of his kin that awaited them. They moved silently through the Vault, the sound of voices in the distance causing them to pause. They listened for a moment, the sound of two super-mutants conversing reaching their ears. The Hellfire armor enhanced the Wanderer's hearing; he could make out the two discussing the diminishing supply of the FEV that was in the Vault and their attempts to find more.

"Big round building has more of the green stuff. Just have to find it!" The mutant said to his comrade. _Big round building…the Capitol. Shit. Is that why the mutants and Talon Company are fighting a war over the place? _Looking back at Charon, the Wanderer nodded. It was easier for the two of them to sneak up on a foe than it was for Fawkes, and if they could kill the mutants without receiving any return fire, so much the better. The two made their way in a crouch to the point that they had a clear shot on the two mutants, staying hidden in the shadows the entire time. Wordlessly, the two men each trained their weapons on a mutant; the Wanderer his plasma rifle, Charon, the Terrible combat shotgun he had gotten at Evergreen Mills. Simultaneously, the two fired. The Wanderer jumped as he did; the report of Charon's shotgun much louder than a regular combat shotgun. Both mutants were killed outright; the plasma from the Wanderer's rifle burrowing a hole in the chest of his target. The head of the mutant that Charon targeted was not so much ruined as it was obliterated, splattering the far wall with skull fragments, blood, and brain matter. Charon jumped in shock at the power of his weapon, the two men looking at each other as Fawkes approached them.

"What the fuck was that, Charon?" the Wanderer whispered urgently. The ghoul shrugged.

"I don't know! I wasn't expecting it to do that!" he whispered back.

"Did you not test it before we came?!"

"Not on anything that was alive!" Charon fired back. Fawkes interrupted their conversation before it could go further.

"My friends. Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand. Let us move to the laboratory first. From there, I can recover the FEV and give it to you, John." The Wanderer and Charon nodded their agreement, rising to their feet and making their way through the Vault to the labs, following Fawkes' lead. They met surprisingly little resistance; the Wanderer realizing that it must mean that a greater than normal number of the mutants were out, taking prisoners or fighting over the Capitol building. That would at least partially disrupt the Wanderer's plan. He had been hoping to catch as many mutants as possible in the Vault when it was destroyed, taking them down with their home.

"It is down this hallway," Fawkes said as they reached the testing area. "I would recommend allowing me to go alone down it. I have not been down here in some time, and I cannot remember if it is irradiated." The Wanderer nodded his consent, Charon staying with him to cover each other as Fawkes made his way down the darkened hallway. As they waited they could hear the sounds of fighting. Flashes of light, the hum of Fawkes' Gatling laser; the screams of dying mutants and centaurs all confirmed that Fawkes was encountering resistance. Just as the Wanderer was about to order Charon to lend his shotgun to Fawkes' efforts, their friend reemerged from the shadows, carrying a small container.

"This is it, my friend," he replied, handing the shatterproof container to the Wanderer. He turned it over in his hand, looking at the vibrant green of the virus inside the container. Without a word he placed it in one of the storage compartments of his armor and nodded to his companions.

"The reactor next, then. That area I remember," he said. Fawkes once again took the lead, violently cutting down the mutants that they came about with his weapon. The Wanderer recognized the path they were following, remembering the room he had waited in while Fawkes had retrieved the G.E.C.K. Charon and Fawkes looked to the Wanderer, waiting for his instructions. He took a knee, his companions following him to the ground; and drew out a small charge with a timer on it, handing it to Fawkes. Separately, he handed a renovated pre-war timer to Charon.

"This is the charge, Fawkes. I've set it with a two hour timer to allow us time to reach a safe distance. It contains a small amount of the fissile material that I took from the bomb in Megaton when I disarmed it. When this timer goes off, the charge will explode and drive the materials in it into the reactor of the Vault with enough force to cause a runaway reaction. The result will be a low-yield nuclear explosion that will destroy the Vault and most everything in it." Fawkes nodded, understanding the principle, if not the details behind it. "This is how you arm it," he continued, showing Fawkes where to press to begin the timer. "Charon, when Fawkes presses that button, I want you to start the countdown with your timer. We need to be clear of the Vault before it goes off."

"What about those little shits in Little Lamplight?" Charon asked.

"The blast shouldn't be large enough to destroy the caverns, if I did my math right," the Wanderer replied. "Should be enough to scare the hell out of them, though," he continued, his laughter coming through the voice box of his armor. Charon seemed to approve of that as well. "Any questions about what to do?"

"Place the charge, start the timer, and run like hell," Charon reiterated, drawing laughter from the group.

"Ok, guys. Go do it and let's go home." Fawkes and Charon nodded at him before setting off into the darkened corridor that led to Vault 87's reactor.

* * *

Sarah opened the door to Moriarty's and stepped into the shade of the bar, the evening sun outlining her in the doorway. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Colvin followed her in, the door gently closing behind him. Besides some very dim lights run by a generator, the only light was a ray of sunshine that shown through where a fan had been built in above the door. An older man with a rifle slung across his back sat at the bar, a ghoul standing across from him; refilling his glass with what appeared to be whiskey. To the side of the bar a young, redheaded woman sat, talking with a petite blonde that Sarah estimated was several years younger than she. All eyes turned to the newcomers as they walked in; appraising them with various levels of disregard.

"Welcome to Moriarty's," Gob said, finally breaking the silence. "What can I do for ya'?" Sarah nodded in greeting as she stepped to the bar.

"I'm Sentinel Sarah Lyons, Brotherhood of Steel. This," she said, gesturing to Colvin, "is Knight-Captain Colvin. We're looking for John Thompson. Anyone know where he is?" Gob and Nova shared an uncomfortable glance at that.

"What'd you need with John?" Nova asked, not ready to betray her friend's secrets.

"It's personal," Sarah replied. "We have some news that he deserves to know." Nova glanced around, uncomfortably.

"Well, he left. Him and his friends, earlier today. I don't know when they're coming back," she replied.

"Did he say where to?" Sarah pressed, her curiosity combining with her need to know intelligence that could be important to the Brotherhood. The redhead shifted uncomfortably again, looking back to Gob, who spoke.

"They said something about Vault 87. It sounded like they were going to try to destroy it," the ghoul replied, his voice practically a sigh. Sarah and Colvin shared a shocked look at that.

"Destroy Vault 87? Alone?" She replied, still stunned.

"Well, not entirely alone. Charon and Fawkes were with him," Gob replied. That was the breaking point of Sarah's temper. She stormed out of the bar without another word, waiting for Colvin to join her on the balcony before she began ranting.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?! He didn't even bother to tell us he was going in!" she began, her anger building to a crescendo.

"He said before Evergreen Mills that he thought Vault 87 would be best handled by him alone," Colvin replied, his voice the model of calmness. "He is doing what he feels is his job, so we can do ours. You shouldn't let your anger conquer you like that, Sarah," he gently reminded. Her teeth began to grind in her frustration before she finally relented.

"Fine. Whatever you say. I guess we just get to sit here with our thumbs up our asses while we wait for him to show up," she replied.

* * *

Fawkes and Charon emerged from the darkness of the passageway and back into the room the Wanderer waited in, their urgency obvious in their steps.

"We should go, now," Charon rasped out, not waiting for a response from the Wanderer before setting a course for the exit to Little Lamplight. The Wanderer fell in behind him, struggling to keep pace with the much taller ghoul's pace.

"What's wrong, Charon?"

"You ever been near a nuclear explosion?" he asked, the Wanderer shaking his head in response. "Didn't think so. I have. Bad memories. Let's just get away from here," he continued. The Wanderer couldn't argue with that, and they made their way quickly to the exit, Charon's shotgun cutting down another four super-mutants without any hesitation. The group exited into Little Lamplight, and without hesitation immediately began jogging toward the exit to the outside world. MacCready stood near the gate, beginning to speak before Charon cut him off.

"Shut up and move, kid," he rasped, running passed MacCready and out the wooden door as the mayor of Little Lamplight looked on in shock.

"Long story," the Wanderer said as he ran passed, not bothering to warn MacCready about the impending nuclear blast that would be coming from the Vault. Only once they were back outside, and at least half a mile from the entrance to Little Lamplight, did Charon slow back to a brisk walk; his course set for Megaton. They travelled silently until the timer Charon was carrying began ringing. The group paused, feeling as the ground rumbled slightly below their feet.

"It worked, then," the Wanderer said, pleased that his design for a makeshift uranium-gun worked.

"It did," Fawkes replied. "Let us hope that you did not miscalculate the yield, my friend." The Wanderer had to concede that point to Fawkes. As much as MacCready annoyed him, he didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he had made a mistake and destroyed Little Lamplight.

"Only time will tell, Fawkes. Come on, let's get back to Megaton."

* * *

The light of the Moon was bright enough that Sarah could make out three figures approaching; all larger than any normal person would be. The realization that one was a super-mutant was almost enough for her to raise her weapon and begin firing, her well-honed instincts almost overcoming her logical side. She stayed her hand as the figures became clear; the red cross on the Wanderer's chest coming into the light. His helmet was off and, as he spotted Sarah and Colvin, a wide smile crossed his face. The smile faded as he got closer and saw the look of unadulterated anger on Sarah's face.

"Have a fun little adventure?" she yelled as they approached. The Wanderer couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, drawing more of her ire. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this inconvenient for you? Should I just shut up, stand aside, and worship you like everyone else?" she continued, her voice rising noticeably. Before he could reply, Charon spoke up.

"We'll be at Moriarty's, John. You have fun here," he said, before making for the gate with Fawkes at his side; abandoning John to his fate. John watched his friends disappear into town; faintly angry that they had left him alone with this patently unhinged woman.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. After what happened at Evergreen Mills I wasn't risking another incident like that. It's done. Vault 87 is destroyed," he reported, catching her and Colvin off guard. A look of surprise crossed the faces of both the Brotherhood members.

"How?" she asked; not understanding how three people could destroy an entire Vault.

"I have my ways," he replied cryptically, starting passed her and to the gate. "You going to come into town, or just stand out here?" he asked, walking backwards as he spoke to her. With a frustrated nod, she and Colvin began following him into town, making their way to his house.

"Well, we have something serious to talk to you about," she replied as he began to remove his power armor. He shot a sideways glance at Sarah and Colvin.

"You two mind give me a minute to get changed, first?" he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. It was Sarah's turn to roll her eyes in frustration before acquiescing.

"Fine. We'll be waiting outside," she replied, leading Colvin out the door. Once he was certain he was alone, the Wanderer removed the container of FEV from his armor and crossed the room to an addition he had built onto his house; a locked storage room where he kept his supplies. He entered, resting the FEV on a shelf before returning the Hellfire armor to where he kept it laid out. On the shelf above it rested a picture of him and Amata, taken when they were 17. He had his face buried in her hair, arms wrapped around her waist. The picture had been taken by his father before the Vault prom; and he had timed it extremely well, catching Amata in mid-laugh. The picture conveyed all the feelings the two had held for each other; the happiness on Amata's face only adding to her beauty. He had crossed the Wasteland end to end, and he was still to meet a woman he thought was more beautiful than the woman he had grown up loving. John began to claw his way to dominance, forcing the Lone Wanderer personality to go to rest. He closed his eyes; reminding himself where he was: in his house, in Megaton; where the Lone Wanderer was not needed. He trusted Sarah and Colvin enough to let them see John instead of the Wanderer. He gave the picture in his hand one last look; a sad smile crossing his face before he kissed it and put it back on the shelf. He quickly dressed himself in a pair of Pre-War pants he had cut off at the knee and a t-shirt; his standard clothing when he was in his house. Making his way back out into the main room of his house, he locked the storage room behind him before calling out to Sarah.

"You can come in now," he yelled, the door opening and a look of amusement crossing Colvin's face as he saw what John was wearing. Sarah remained grim looking, however; causing an uneasy feeling in John's stomach.

"John…our scribes found something. Down at Project Purity. It's…we think it's your dad and Janice's bodies," she said, laying everything on the table. John rocked back, eyes widened in surprise before he spoke.

"They were still there? The Enclave didn't dispose of them?"

"Apparently not. We'd need to get a genetic sample from you to confirm the match, but it seems like it's probably them," she replied, before continuing. "I'm so sorry, John," she stepped forward, slowly; putting her arm on John's shoulder. He nodded at her, reaching up to grab her hand before leaning forward, resting his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes as she embraced him. "It's ok. You're allowed to be a human, too" she whispered as she hugged him. Colvin had stepped forward and rested his hand on John's back, speaking as he did.

"If you need anyone to pray with you, I am here, brother," he said; the kindness of his offer taking John by surprise. _Maybe I have been wrong to mistrust the Brotherhood. Perhaps Fawkes was right; I should open up to them more. _

"Where are they?" he asked, stepping back from Sarah and looking her in the eyes.

"I'd assume they're being brought back to the Citadel's mortuary to be prepared for burial," she replied. "As soon as you're ready we can head down there. It doesn't have to be tonight, though," she continued. John nodded at her.

"I'd prefer to spend the night here and go down tomorrow. Will you two stay in town?" They both nodded.

"We will. I'll stay in the common room," Colvin said; leaving it unspoken that he was going to allow Sarah and John some privacy. With a smile and a nod, he departed, leaving them alone. John grasped her hand before looking at her.

"Are you comfortable staying with me?" he whispered; the cockiness of the Lone Wanderer gone and a deeply hurt 19 year old standing in front of her. Sarah's heart broke slightly, seeing how strong the emotions he suppressed as the Wanderer were.

"Of course I am, John. I'll always be here for you," she replied. He smiled faintly. _You're not the first one to say that. And all the others have left me. But I'll give you a chance, Sarah Lyons. I'll give you a chance. _

* * *

**Ok, I feel like I'm on a role now. A wise man suggest I get onto a schedule of updating so that I have something set for myself; and with my school year done now I have a bunch of time. So here we go. I'll be updating An Ember in the Dark next (stay tuned, because I think that chapter should be a bit of a doozy). Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this one; I've got some fun ideas I've been playing with on where to go next. But thoughts, feedback, let me hear it. Thanks for reading!  
**


End file.
